Legacies and Defining Moments
by vivicance
Summary: 'They have bigger shoes to fill than what they would have liked, and with the way things are going, he idly wonders whether they are going to be ready soon, if at all.' New captains, new members. It's never going to be the same—but it can only get better.
1. Getting There

**Title:** Getting There.  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Kirihara Akaya, Zaizen Hikaru, Yukimura Seiichi.**  
><strong>**Notes:** This is the first of the Next Generation Arc that I've been wanting to write for a while now. I guess this is what one will call a prologue to the story. It will involve a lot of Rikkai, Shitenhouji, and Hyoutei, because they are my favorite schools, and perhaps some Seigaku, if I can be assed to focus on their characterizations. Mostly, however, it will focus on our lovable second-years-turned-third-years and how they are going to be coping with the changes forced upon them (I will admit bias on Zaizen and Kirihara, though, so you'll see more of them as the chapters roll on).

Now, I'm not sure if I'm going to be putting romance in this fic, but I'm not ruling out the possibility that it might happen if the muse happens to swing that way. Feel free to request something, though there won't be any guarantee of them ever happening.

Mild spoilers for _Shin Tenipuri_, but not too much.

**—****—**

The end of the U-17 camp has only ever highlighted one thing in Kirihara's eyes.

He's not so sure how to take _it_, not so sure how to feel about _it_ just yet, so he keeps to himself during the final days of camp, eyes shadowed and cast downward whenever he's spoken to, thus appearing far more affected about _some_thingthan what he intends to show. He's taken to spending his time in his room — or, as others like to say more often, _sulking_ — playing with his portable game console, or tampering with his phone; or in the cafeteria, playing with the dessert in front of him, and staring out into the clear, blue sky that mocks the storm occupying his thoughts.

It is, of course, impossible for other people not to notice the (not-so) subtle changes, especially those who know him well. He tries not to wince at every thoughtful look Sanada throws his way and every gentle prodding Yukimura uses (or attempts to) to coax his problems out of his system. Yanagi has not been as obvious when it comes to showing his worries, but his reticence speaks volumes to Kirihara.

In any case, he has a feeling that they already know what's been bothering him, which is all the more reason for him to go into hiding until the worst has come to pass.

His roommates have been understanding (in as much as they _can_, anyway, because, let's face it, that's just not going to happen _that_ easily in over a hundred years) of his plight, and let him brood to himself, staying away from the line of fire (not that they really want to _stay _there and hold his hand or anything). Kirihara wonders if this is because they are all in the same boat, the not-quite-theres stuck between a rock and a hard place, unable to do anything but push and push and push because anything else is just unacceptable.

They have bigger shoes to fill than what they would have liked, and with the way things are going, he idly wonders whether they _are _going to be ready soon, if at all.

"It's the last day," Zaizen Hikaru says as he slips inside the room, taking off his headphones and setting it down on his nightstand. Kirihara may not admit it out loud, but out of the three second-years living temporarily with him, Zaizen has been the closest to a friend that he has had in a place like this, balancing out Kirihara's giddy childishness with a sarcastic edge. That's fine, he supposes, since Hiyoshi is far too weird for him to deal with (though he is fun to poke fun at) and Kaidoh is just plain irritating (as if Kirihara himself isn't tough to handle). "Are you sure you want to keep holing yourself up in here? Should I start calling you a hermit?"

"You got a better idea, genius?" he asks, wryness that he's earned from the guy slipping in.

"How about a game, moron?" Zaizen asks, mirroring his tone, but there's teeth in the curl of his lips that makes Kirihara smirk. Zaizen may, perhaps, be the most impossible person he's ever met, but he can't deny that he's fun to play with, wit for wit. "It's the last day. They said we can use the courts if we want to. You need to get out before the room starts to smell like you."

Now that he thinks about it, he hasn't played a game against Zaizen at all, and Zaizen has yet to be pushed to show his true skills — even the camp that cracked open many players' true potentials isn't enough to bring out the true strength in Shitenhouji's upcoming tennis captain. Kirihara agrees quickly, letting the previous comment slide due to his excitement, and they make their way down to the courts.

It is their last day, after all, so why not make the most of it?

Despite the fact that they aren't the only ones who have thought of making their last day here end with a spectacular _bang_, and probably won't be the last, they've managed to find an unoccupied court a little further away from the rest, and before they know it, Kirihara is serving, and Zaizen is swinging his arms to return the favour. They're playing tennis against each other, finally, and that's all that matters.

Zaizen is elegant, Kirihara thinks in between fast serves and game breaks, in the way he moves, almost like a tiger prowling the savannah with an easier grace than the lions who assume that they own the world. He's downright cocky, reminding Kirihara of Echizen (to his grave annoyance), but only because he knows exactly where he stands. His pride is subtle, only obvious when he's playing, returning a shot, making a point, serving a game. Some time in between a long rally, he is reminded why Zaizen has gone as far as he has, and the player he can be if he's given the chance to prove himself.

"Heh," he remarks, seeing the bouncing ball in front of the net, after the perfectly executed drop shot that Zaizen has handed in. With the amount of strength and passion they have placed in their shots, the subtlety of it does come as a pleasant surprise to Kirihara. "Not bad."

Zaizen smirks, rueful as always. "Still holding back?"

"I should be asking you that," he replies, eyes glinting. "I'm going to win."

The smirk widens, and with a shake of his head, Zaizen serves.

• • •

He realizes, near the end of their last set, that they have managed to attract some audience, from the high school hotshots who have finally seen the light in the way the middle-schoolers have ousted them, to the said middle-schoolers who have watched them all with twinkles in their eyes and excitement in their faces. The third-years, especially, have been widely interested in the match (he can hear Marui yelling something incoherent from afar), and when Kirihara finally takes the set with a 6-4 win, there's a scattering of applauses that makes him and Zaizen roll their eyes.

"I thought you were going to stop holding back," Zaizen accuses him lightly as they sit down on the bench, catching their breaths after their battle is over.

Kirihara shoots him a dirty look. "Like you're one to talk."

"'_A wise man keeps some of his talents in reserve_,'" Zaizen quips back, quoting something that Kirihara knows he's heard that somewhere before, and rolls his eyes yet again.

"Only you would say that and be able to keep _your face_."

Zaizen eyes him, mildly amused. "Only _you_ would say that and be able to _keep talking_."

"Don't think I'm going not going to get you for that, bastard," Kirihara barks back as he throws a towel over his head, his elbows resting on his knees. He's far too tired than he cares to admit. "You're lucky for now."

Zaizen doesn't hold back the sarcasm. "I'm afraid, really."

Kirihara looks down on the hard court as sweat drips from his forehead. He breathes in, breathes out, feeling the audience watching them disperse, feeling Zaizen move beside him — to drink water, to change shirts, to wipe his face. Right now, still stuck with adrenaline rush despite an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion, he still hears the whispers and the murmurs and the soft padding of footsteps around him. "We'll settle this in the Nationals. I won't hold back then, so neither should you."

He feels Zaizen stop for a bit, before he moves again, this time with only an ounce of disbelief, laced with dry humor, in his voice. "You think your team is gonna get in next year?"

"What are you blabbering about? Rikkai will win next year." Kirihara grabs his towel and throws it at him, for good measure. "And you can't stop us, no matter how hard you try."

Zaizen's lips curl as he catches the cloth, a challenge accepted. "We'll see about that."

• • •

At the end of the day, while Kirihara contemplates the possibility that his jab might or might not have sparked Zaizen's competitive streak to soar even higher, thus making the next year even harder for himself (though admittedly more enjoyable), over dinner, Yukimura goes to his table sits in front of him. He's smiling in that way he always does whenever he wants someone to listen to him first before they can say anything else. Thankfully, Kirihara doesn't visibly flinch at the sudden intrusion nor does he squirm under the plain gaze.

"I saw your match against Shitenhouji's second year today," Yukimura says mildly, ignoring the sudden uncomfortable aura that has surrounded the two of them. It's awkward at best, but Kirihara is thankful that Yukimura is tactful enough to throw him a lifeline. "Congratulations in winning. He's Zaizen Hikaru-kun, isn't he? Shiraishi mentioned that he will be Shitenhouji's new captain once the new school year rolls in."

"Yeah, he is," he replies, wondering with minimal wariness as to where this conversation is going. He has a feeling, but he doesn't want to let his nerves get the best of him.

"He's your roommate, correct?"

"Mm."

"Who else?"

Kirihara scowls, but he doesn't show anything else that conveys his confusion. Or his suspicion. "Hyoutei's Hiyoshi Wakashi and Seigaku's Kaidoh Kaoru." There's a beat of silence as Yukimura processes this, but Kirihara is ahead of him. He's already thought a little bit of this. "Next year, they're probably going to be their school's captains, along with Fudomine's Kamio Akira. I could be wrong, though," he adds as an afterthought, but his tone suggests that he probably really isn't. Atobe and Tezuka have already conveyed their messages to their intended successors during that go-play-against-your-supposed-doubles-partner-or-go-home fiasco (why, oh _why_, would they even chose those two as their partners in the first place, Kirihara will never guess), and Tachibana isn't going to break against the mold. He'll probably do something similar once they've returned home.

"Are you intimidated?" Yukimura smiles, but even a stranger will notice that his curiosity is genuine.

Kirihara doesn't repress the snort that comes out of him. "No. They'll be strong, sure, and they'll probably get even stronger, but I'll surpass them all. I'm playing to win." He meets his captain's gaze, eyes hard and passionate and glimmering with all the hope and determination that he can muster. "Rikkai is going to reclaim the championship, at Kantou, at the Nationals."

_And then_, he promises silently, _I'm going to defeat you_.

He holds his breath as he watches the flutter of emotions etched on his captain's face, the expressions that he has neither time nor patience (nor skill) to decipher, but when Yukimura smiles at him, honest and full of support and _relieved_, he knows that he has done and _will_ do well. He will do better than he has ever done before, just because of this trust shown to him. He knows that there is no other option for him but to go higher, because he will not allow himself to fail that smile.

_I will wait_, it says. _So keep your word._

_I trust you._

"You've grown well, Akaya," Yukimura murmurs, satisfied. "I'm glad."

Kirihara hasn't won anything yet, doesn't even have the title of _buchou_ stuck at the end of his name _just_ yet, but he feels as though he has already won the world.

**—****—**

**Random facts:** According to PairPuri Vol.6, Hiyoshi, Kaidoh, Kirihara, and Zaizen are rooming together during the U-17 camp in the _Shin Prince of Tennis _manga. I thought that it was just so fitting. Too bad Kamio was in another room, or it _really_ would have been a great fanfic fodder.

_A wise man keeps some of his talents in reserve_ (能ある鷹は爪を隠す): Literally, the talented hawk hides its claws. This is Zaizen's favorite motto, according to his profile in the 40.5 TeniPuri fanbook.

**—****—**

**Last Edited: **14-Feb-2012


	2. Step by Step

**Title:** Step by Step.  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Kirihara Akaya, Shiraishi Kuranosuke, Zaizen Hikaru, OCs.**  
><strong>**Notes: **I've written this so fast I might have made a lot of mistakes. Sorry about that; I'll edit all of them soon. A few OCs will pop up here and there from now on, like the new members of the club and stuff, and some of them will appear more than the others just because they have big roles for their respective teams. They won't have any more role in the _plot _other than filing in the spaces, though, because I'm deathly afraid of writing OCs. It's just that they're needed here. I hope that's all right for you guys.

Mild spoilers for _Shin Tenipuri_.

**—****—**

The first day of the new year with him as the captain is something out of dream — or the stuff of nightmares, as he will learn to find out later on — to Kirihara, who looks on with a half-dazed, half-exasperated expression as the tennis club's members, old and new, line up in front of him like soldiers answering a captain's summon. Just as well, he thinks ruefully, because the courts will be their battlefield soon. The old members are apprehensive, but hopeful, as they survey his expression and gauge his abilities from what they remember of him, while the new members are awed and excited, especially those who have never seen but only heard of him and the club's prestige. The itch to prove his worth once and for all is there, and all in all, the promise of a beautiful season is just beginning.

A lot less people have signed up this year than the past years, but even in the face of defeat, Rikkai still holds the honour of being former champions and last year's runner-up, and is still revered as one of the best, so, comparatively, they still probably have had a higher average of recruits than most of the other clubs — and schools. That in itself isn't bad at all, considering that the competition last year had been tough. Kirihara, however, will not forgive himself for any mistakes this time.

A promise is a promise.

Kobayashi Masato, the new vice-captain with shrewd intellect that matches Niou Masaharu, though with a more quiet disposition, eyes him discreetly through the corner of his eyes, and murmurs, "I think they're ready to listen now, Kirihara-kun."

Kirihara hides his grin; he doesn't need to be told twice.

"I'll go straight to the point," he declares, loud and clear and ringing in the silence that has reigned under the weight of his stare. "If you're not here to win, leave. If you won't give a hundred-and-ten percent effort in every single one of your games - and I do mean every single one of them - then leave. If you can't stand waking up every morning with every part of your body sore, to the point where you can no longer get out of your bed, leave. If you've decided that you don't like what you're hearing, _leave_. And do it now, before I lose my patience."

"Losing patience is definitely your forte." His classmate and one of the newest regulars, Torii Kaede, mutters over his right shoulder, his face close enough to be punched in the face. Kirihara fights the urge to turn around and glare at him. It will only prove his point. "Good job at getting rid of them pretty fast, though. At least, we won't have to deal with idiots anymore."

"Not so sure about that last one," Kirihara mutters under his breath, but Kaede doesn't hear it.

There's a shift in the wind as footsteps begin padding across the hard court, murmurs coursing through the audiences as the numbers dwindle, and the air becomes less stifling. Kirihara bites down a grin as his eyes roam, counting down the numbers that have remained - less than half of those who have signed up, but that will do.

"Good," he says, his lips curling into a feral smile, deadly and mischievous and ultimately satisfied with the outcome. "The first thing to remember is that is Rikkai, and I'm the captain. I'm here to win, and I'm going to do _whatever it takes _to make that happen. I hope you're with me when that happens."

They all don the faces of warriors, ready and waiting to the bark of orders, and Kirihara finds happiness and pride in the momentary silence they share.

• • •

"You did well out there," says Masato softly after practice is over, shoulder to shoulder with Kirihara as they walk back to the locker room with the rest of the club members. "You have their attention, and their respect. Even the other third-years will not think of underestimating your capabilities to lead."

"They shouldn't have done so from the start," he says, gritting his teeth, voice low and tremulous at the little reminders of the greed and envy surrounding him. They've all coveted the spot, but he's the only one who has earned it. He believes that his anger is justified enough, however, that his vice-captain won't call him out on it. "No one has done as much as I have to deserve what I have now, Masato, and don't tell me otherwise. I'm not hearing it."

"I wasn't going to say anything," he replies, a small smile lifting his expression from blank to serene to amiable in the span of four seconds. It reminds Kirihara of Yanagi and his eerie calmness, and he quietly ponders the reason why Yukimura has so subtly urged Kirihara to pick him as his second-in-command. "But you're right. They ought not to have forgotten about what you've done for this team the previous years. This has been a good wake up call for them."

Kirihara nods, satisfied. "Damn right."

"As long as you control that temper of yours, none of them will be pushed away by your kind of gravity," Masato muses, laughing quietly at Kirihara's sudden indignant expression. "But then, Kaede-kun is right, isn't he? Losing your patience is definitely your forte."

"I should give you laps for that," growled Kirihara, but there's no bite in it. Masato merely laughs at the sky.

• • •

"_How are your new club members coming along, Kirihara-kun_?"

Kirihara stops twirling his pencil out of boredom, thinking the question through when he might not have done so before. He's arrogant, impulsive, so it's easy for him to say that his team is moulding itself quite nicely, slowly but surely restructuring from the loss of the best players their club has ever had, and he knows that anyone listening will believe it.

Then again, this is Shiraishi Kuranosuke he's talking to, who has managed to dissect his inner insecurities in less than an hour and bring out a side of him that no one has ever seen before. He'll reply something positive, sure, but he won't believe much else.

Kirihara doesn't forget that it's Shiraishi who has taken him out of his dark shell and has given him wings to fly, enough that he's no longer recognized as a highly destructive player, but a strong opponent of incredible talent. The difference is stark, and now that he's the captain of his team, it's dreadfully useful. He owes this person far too much than words can even say.

He settles for a light-hearted tease. "Are you going to report back to your successor?"

Shiraishi's laugh on the other side of the connection is rich with genuine amusement.

"_Well, if you give me useful information, I just might_," he admits, as unashamed as ever, and Kirihara grins at that. "_I don't think Zaizen will appreciate my interference, though, no matter how useful it might be. I don't want to make him feel suffocated while he's still learning how to be a leader_."

"That goes for the both of us," he admits, albeit begrudgingly. "How did you do it before?"

"_Even if I tell you, Kirihara-kun, I doubt that it will help you_," Shiraishi replies serenely, and he hears the light teasing tone in the other man's voice. "_Every captain leads his team differently. You will have to find your own way of doing things._"

Kirihara makes an impatient noise, and Shiraishi laughs some more.

"_Well, since you asked so nicely, I'll give you pointers. For my fellow year-mates, it was easy. They've been with me since the start. I know them and they know me. It was always a give or take relationship between us, and I never ever forgot my end of the bargain."_

Kirihara remains silent, contemplating, considering.

"_The younger ones were the toughest to handle, especially those who thought they already know everything and acted like they own the world._" Kirihara feels his own lips twitching at that, a companionable moment wherein he remembers the bunch of first-years he's set apart from the rest. They all looked at him dubiously, with challenges glimmering in their sharp eyes, and Kirihara has sought to keep a close eye on them in an instant. "_Imagine the difficulty I had when Zaizen arrived at the tennis club. With Kintarou, I could manage. His wild imagination as made him afraid of what I've been hiding underneath all the bandages. It was easy to control him once I found that out._"

"I bet he was disappointed your arm wasn't actually poisoned."

Shiraishi responds cheerfully. "_He still doesn't know a thing_. _He wasn't there when I took it off, remember?_"

Kirihara rolls his eyes. Why did he even try to tempt fate with that?

"...Of course, he wasn't."

"_Well, as I was saying, Zaizen was a handful, both in and out of the court. He was dreadfully useful in tight situations, and his partnership with Kenya in doubles was at a national level, but otherwise, he was difficult to deal with. He was a bit like a thunderstorm, that one. Rain, wind, and lightning, all at once. He still is, I guess._"

"I can imagine," Kirihara snorts, his eyes dazed for a moment. Yes, he himself had caused a bit a storm back in the day, didn't he? Ah, well. His fingers twirl the pencil again, tapping lightly on the textbook sprawled in front of him. "He's got a mouth on him."

"_Yes, that's true_," Shiraishi agrees, slowly, and Kirihara has this distinct feeling that Shiraishi's trying to prevent himself to say the same thing about the person he's currently talking to. "_He has no respect for authority, though he never seemed to mind answering to me when I ask nicely._"

"It doesn't sound like it happened often," Kirihara teases.

"_Hey now_." Shiraishi chastises, but not too seriously. "_I still had to establish my role as the captain, hadn't I? He talked back half the time, and doesn't always understand the points I tried to make, but I made it a habit all-year round to let him know who the boss around there was. I was never afraid to tell him where he went wrong and why he was wrong, and I suppose he developed some grudging respect for that_. _He's grown up a bit, though, even if he still is a pain in the ass most of the time._" He pauses. "_You, too, Kirihara-kun. You sound like you've grown up a bit, too_."

Kirihara responds wryly. "It's a part of the job, don't you think?"

He can hear the fond smile in Shiraishi's voice. "_Yukimura-kun should be very proud of you_."

There's another pauses at that, and Kirihara leans back on his chair, looking up at his dreadfully boring white ceiling. He likes to think that it's true, that Yukimura is proud of the person he has become over the years — Yukimura has even said so during the last day of camp — but there are times when he second guesses himself, times when he believes otherwise. He doesn't have Yukimura's strength, after all, or his charisma.

They're very different people, and in many ways, many perceive Yukimura to be the better one.

He wonders if it's a part of the challenge, or if he's just being stupid, or if the entire world is really just that in love with his former captain and there's nothing he can do about it.

"_Kirihara-kun?_"

"Yeah," he replies, his voice steady. "Yeah, he is, Shiraishi-san."

• • •

"We're not so much as lacking in singles as we are in doubles," Masato says quietly, watching the shifts in Kirihara's expression as he examines papers that detailed the progress of his team. The classroom they've decided to conduct 'responsible tennis club things' in is perfect, mostly empty and silent and with a good view of the courts from where they stand. "We're all capable singles players, and in doubles, you, Kaede-kun, and I can team up alternatively if we're in a pickle. But that won't help us much, in the long run, especially if we need two of us in singles."

"Kaede is a doubles player," Kirihara quips, glancing at him. "We just need him to find the perfect partner."

"Ezakiya?" Masato offers.

"Maybe," Kirihara says thoughtfully, thinking about Ezakiya's down-to-earth personality (a rarity in a student of Rikkai, much less a member of the tennis team, and Kirihara likes to make fun of him once in a while) match Kaede's devil-may-care one (which, unsurprisingly, clashes horribly with everyone else's pigheadedness), "but I'm thinking more along the lines of Uoya."

"The first year?" the vice-captain's eyebrows furrow at the thought. "At the moment, he's still a very volatile player, with not much control on court. At the same time, being in the same pair as a third-year is an unusual combination, especially those two. Uoya is very aggressive in the court. He will want to be the game-maker, but Kaede-kun will not hand over the authority to him, being the older one."

Kirihara breathes out a short laugh. "He doesn't have to."

"Then what are you saying?"

"Uoya just needs someone to hold his hands and slap his wrists for a little while," he replies, leaning back and resting his arms behind his head. He's grinning at Masato's perplexed expression, as though he carries a secret that no one's allowed to know. "And Kaede needs someone to bring out his more aggressive side. If he can talk back to me off-court, then he can definitely fight back on court." He eyes his vice-captain shrewdly. "He's a little bit like you, you know. Maybe that's why your doubles combination sucks, even if you do win most of the time."

Masato snorts. "Don't be ridiculous."

"It's like watching Yanagi-sempai and Sanada-sempai play doubles," he continues on, as though he hasn't heard the interruption. His voice is nostalgic, almost wistfully. The memories take over sometimes. "They play together like they're in a singles game, which is hardly the point, but it works for the team."

Masato's eyes glint in amusement as he stares at Kirihara for a few moments. "So does that mean you're the Yukimura out of us three, Kirihara-kun?"

Kirihara makes a face and throws a crumpled piece of paper at his face.

• • •

_**To: **__Kirihara Akaya_

_**From: **__Zaizen Hikaru_

_**Subject: **__hey idiot_

_You do know that Shirashi's a mother hen, right? Whatever you say or do, if he cares for you, he's bound to worry about every little thing. That's why he's the biggest idiot in our group, aside from my two disgusting senpai — though that's beside the point._

Kirihara blinks after he's read the first lines of Zaizen's email, then laughs. It's just like Zaizen to be so caustic about his own former captain, enough to let a distant friend (?) know about it. Kirihara reads the concern and the annoyance, and the lingering fondness doesn't leave him. He's played the cute-brat card against his friends and teammates long enough to recognize someone who's doing the same.

Though, he supposes that '_tsundere_' is the better word for Zaizen at this point.

_Stop making other people worry about you needlessly. You said so yourself that you're going to win the Nationals this year. Are you going to take back your words now? Whatever. Don't be a girl and start playing some real tennis. Unless you really want to lose, and in that case, I'll travel over there _and then_ kick your ass. _

_And I hope you _do_ get to the Nationals so I can kick your ass there again._

_- Z.H._

"Bastard," Kirihara mutters to himself, already thinking about his reply.

_P.S. Do you know Hiyoshi's email? I have to send him the same message, except it's more along the lines of 'you have got a stick up his ass that needs to be pulled out'._

• • •

_**To: **__Zaizen Hikaru_

_**From: **__Kirihara Akaya_

_**Subject: **__stop talking to yourself_

_You're jealous._

_It's not my fault that he loves me. Get a life, idiot. Or a girlfriend. Boyfriend. I don't know who'd even want to deal with you, but whatever, just get one. Preferably something who can take that stick out of _your _ass. And stop making too many assumptions. Did you forget what I said? Rikkai will reclaim that championship and there's nothing you can do about it. Even Seigaku won't be able to stop us this time._

_Or… are you worried? Ha. Didn't think you care that much, Zaizen._

_- K.A._

_P.S. If I have hope for you, I have none for him. Too bad no one will be able to do that. Ohtori's been trying for half his life. But here's his email anyway - [email]. Have fun._

• • •

"Hyoutei, eh?" he ponders out loud, his fingers hovering on the keyboard after he has sent his reply.

**—****—**

**Last Edited: **14-Feb-2012


	3. Setting the Pace

**Title: **Setting the Pace.  
><strong>Characters: <strong>Hiyoshi Wakashi, Ohtori Choutarou, Momoshiro Takeshi, Kaidoh Kaoru, Tachibana An, Atobe Keigo  
><strong>Notes: <strong>Something different this time - Hyoutei, and Hiyoshi. I _love _Hiyoshi, and Ohtori, and _Atobe_, so I hope I did them justice.

Also, regarding Atobe's rather flowery way of speaking - I tend to avoid writing 'ore-sama' and all that whenever I'm writing him. It really irritates me whenever I see it being written in fics, even though it is a part of Atobe's characterization. Personally I think it's fine just writing 'I'. It's easy to get the point across since people already _know _Atobe's arrogance. That's just the way I write him, anyway.

Mild spoilers for _Shin Tenipuri_.

**—****—**

"Practice match?" Hiyoshi blinks, leaning back on the bench and tilting his head to stare at the sky. Ohtori, beside him, looks at him curiously as he talks on the phone (which isn't actually allowed, but what the heck, right? Atobe has always done it, and now Hiyoshi is the captain), wiping the sweat off his face after their long practice. The rest of the new regulars are resting as well, while Kabaji is doing rounds, making sure everyone has clean towels and cold water bottles. "That's fine, I understand. It won't be a problem for us. How does next Wednesday sound for you, Kirihara?"

Ohtori's eyebrows shoot up at the name, almost hiding behind his hair, but the most that Hiyoshi has given him is a stern look and a half-hearted shrug.

"All right, we'll see you at Rikkai," Hiyoshi says, and flips his phone shut after the call ends. He turns to Ohtori. "We'll have practice matches at Rikkai next Wednesday. Inform the others."

"Is that really a good idea?" Ohtori has to ask, but he's already standing up to follow his orders. "Don't you have to run it over with Sakaki-san?"

"It's fine," Hiyoshi replies blandly. So far, Sakaki has kept his word that he will let Hiyoshi do as he pleases — within reason. He's done the same with Atobe before, and Hiyoshi will be damned if he'll let Sakaki baby him just because his favourite student has already graduated from middle school. "We'll only be playing doubles games, anyway."

"Eh? Why so?"

"I suspect that they need help in that department," Hiyoshi replies, lips curling. "Not that it's a department we can brag about, either."

Ohtori snorts quietly. "True."

Besides," Hiyoshi adds, "it'll be good for the rest of them to fight against strong opponents. They'll have a taste of what's to come in the Nationals. That'll give them the right motivation to defeat opponents and come out on top."

"Also true," Ohtori chuckles, noticing Hiyoshi's slip, already thinking that Hyoutei and Rikkai both are going to be in the Nationals. Hiyoshi just raises an eyebrow at him, daring him to challenge, but Ohtori keeps his sweet smile. "Well, I'm off to tell them. I'll bet they'll be excited."

Hiyoshi snorts, as unabashedly stoic as ever. "Tell them to run ten laps if they get rowdy."

Ohtori waves him off, but he replies, "Sure, buchou."

• • •

"How safe is it for Kabaji-kun to play doubles?"

Hiyoshi frowns at the question, looking at Ohtori as though he's the craziest person he's ever seen (_excluding_ the former members that formed Hyoutei's regular tennis team). But no, Ohtori's inquiry holds his genuine concern and unbending naiveté, and for all that Hiyoshi thinks of him as an idiot with too big a heart and too little an ambition, Ohtori doesn't do or say things without meaning. Momentarily forgetting the purpose of why he's currently sprawling all over Ohtori's living room floor with a number of homework and essays flying around him, he thinks it over.

Far be it for him to ignore something that involved his interests, after all.

"He's only ever played doubles with Atobe, but only on unofficial matches, and never where there's a lot of people to see it happen, so no one's really sure if it's… safe," he replies, eyebrows furrowing. "No one else asks it of him, and Atobe doesn't force him. There have always been other people better at doubles."

This is as far as he knows, anyway.

"I see," says Ohtori slowly, biting his lip as he stares at his English homework, seeing nothing but blurry lines and figures. "Have you ever wondered why?"

"Why?"

"Why he doesn't play with anyone but Atobe-buchou," he clarifies.

"I won't pretend that I understand the way Kabaji thinks or does things, Ohtori, and it goes the same for Atobe-buchou," Hiyoshi replies, his frown deepening. He doesn't like being reminded of the former captain, even through the little things. And the fact that he just can't call him anything else but'buchou' at the moment. _Damn_ him. "Why are you asking me this?"

"We should try to make him play doubles, at least once," Ohtori suggests. "Who knows, maybe he'll surprise us. He seems to be receptive of us now, even though Atobe-buchou isn't here."

Hiyoshi grunts noncommittally. He'll think about it.

Ohtori continues on tentatively. "Maybe you can ask Atobe-buchou about it?"

"I don't want to talk about him," says Hiyoshi blankly. Or _to _him, he thinks darkly. Ohtori has paused then, looking up and regarding at him with an unreadable face for a short moment before turning back to his homework in silence.

Hiyoshi knows better, though, having known Ohtori since their elementary school days. Years and months and light years later, and Ohtori has yet to change as much as he. He knows that the light-haired boy is expecting something out of him, and it's only in Hiyoshi's nature to accept the challenge posed. He can't get out of this, no matter how hard he tries.

Besides, it'll be like doing a favour for a friend, and even if he doesn't admit it out loud, Ohtori _is _most likely his closest friend.

"I'll ask Kabaji," he gives in, though not without a displeased tone leaking out of his otherwise bland voice. If he's going down, he might as well put up a good fight on the way. He manages not to sigh out his irritation, nevertheless. "We'll go from there."

Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Ohtori's tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he tries to fight down a smile. He's failing spectacularly, he thinks, but that's really none of his business.

"Alright," Ohtori says, complacent. "Thanks, Hiyoshi."

"Mm."

Sometimes, Hiyoshi wonders why Atobe insists on leading the tennis club alone, when it's always better to have a second pair of ears and lips to help you get through the day without your hair falling off or getting shaved (or something equally drastic). Perhaps he's thinking about this because Ohtori _is_ his friend, and with all the craziness around him, he's thankful to have someone rational to keep him from losing what little sanity he has left.

He wonders, faintly, what might happen if he decides to have Ohtori as his vice-captain.

He scrutinizes his friend once more, before shakes his head. No, not at all vice-captain material, he surmises, returning to his math homework.

• • •

Hiyoshi blinks when a hand is waved in front of him, and then he turns to Momoshiro's smiling face, glaring.

"What do you want now?" he spits out, with far more venom than he originally intends. He momentarily forgets that he's only been invited (by Kaidoh no less, but lately, they've been talking to each other more between emails and text messages, so it isn't _that_ weird, not to him) in the street courts and his attitude may or may not get him kicked out inelegantly.

As of this moment, he hardly cares.

Momoshiro, however, is dauntless. Or stupid. Or probably both. "You've been staring at the court for five minutes now, you know? Even Viper there's resorted to calling you names, but you wouldn't respond." Behind him, he hears Kaidoh hiss in annoyance at the nickname. "So, did you want to play or what?"

"No," he replies shortly.

"Eh?" Momoshiro is wide-eyed, shocked at the refusal to play _tennis_. A blasphemy, Hiyoshi knows very well, and he resists the urge to give him a smug smirk. He settles for an indifferent demeanour, poker face and all.

"It's because you annoy him, Momoshiro-kun," says the sweet-looking girl standing beside Seigaku's vice-captain, looking vaguely amused at the scenario unfolding before her. "Your voice is too loud."

"Hey, that isn't my fault he gets annoyed easily!" Momoshiro flails his arms around like a headless chicken, red-faced and blundering, but the twitchy, sheepish smile on his face suggests that he's more embarrassed than angry. The girl laughs lightly, and Kaidoh snorts. Momoshiro's face twists into a horrible expression when his eyes land on his teammate-slash-captain-slash-nemesis. "Oi, what are you laughing at, Viper?"

"I'm laughing because you're an idiot!"

"What did you say?"

As they bicker on, the girl moves to sit beside Hiyoshi, and he stares at her. He doesn't remember — or, more accurately, doesn't know — her name.

"Let's just leave the two of them alone while they argue, ne, Hiyoshi-kun?" she says, laughing at her friends' antics, apparently as used to it as he is. The other people in the court who aren't familiar with them, however, are starting to get worried — Kaidoh has begun choking the life out of Momoshiro — but she pays them no heed, and Hiyoshi shrugs to himself, doing the same.

"I don't care, either way," he says, snorting. "They can kill each other for all I care. That would be very helpful for my team if they're no longer in the way."

She rolls her eyes at him, but she doesn't seem to be disappointed or shocked. "Is tennis all you guys think about?"

"There's nothing else to think about," he replies, only half-honest.

"Food?"

It's his turn to roll his eyes this time. "Aside from the obvious."

"How about girls?" she offers, her voice perfectly innocent.

"Not interested."

"Boys?" He gives her a blank look, and she chortles. "Are you always this serious?"

Hiyoshi knows better than to grace that question with an answer.

"You've been thinking a lot earlier, I can tell," she says, the non sequitur making him start. "Care to share?"

"No," he says again, because he really doesn't want _talk_ to anyone, much less a stranger.

She hums thoughtfully. "Well, I can understand the need for some privacy, but if it's something big, telling other people can help, you know. Sometimes, even a stranger can tell you what you need to hear the most, if you open up."

He gives her another look, one that most certainly means 'I'm not looking for advice from random people I don't know'.

"Maybe you think that you can take on the world just because you're a big guy now or something, but there are times when you need all the help you can get. _These_—" he jumps slightly when she places a hand on his shoulder, and he almost flinches at the sudden contact, good thing he has more self-control than that "—can't carry all the burden you think it can. In the end, it's just going to weigh you down. Having some support is always nice."

He's quiet for a moment, mulling it over, but a sudden thought occurs to him. "Who are you?"

She blinks, and then covers her face with her hands, laughing to herself. He rolls his eyes and turns away from her, his eyes fixed on the courts. He's itching to play now that he's mind has cleared a bit.

"My name is An," she says, after she's calmed down a bit. He doesn't turn his head. "Tachibana An, but you can call me by my name if you want." He hears the hesitation in her voice when she gives him her surname, as if she's far more comfortable with letting strangers call her by her first name, which in itself is odd. She's smiling still, however, still _laughing_. At _him_. "You're Hiyoshi Wakashi-kun, the new captain of Hyoutei's tennis club. Am I right?"

"You've already called me by my name earlier," he points out blandly. She's Tachibana Kippei's younger sister, his mind tells him suddenly, and he scans her face. The resemblance is there, even if it's not obvious. "You're that Tachibana's sister."

She eyes are resolute. "Yes, I am."

He turns away. "Do you play tennis?"

"I— Yeah, of course, I do." She seems surprise at the question. "I'm the vice-captain of the girls' tennis club there."

How predictable, he thinks. Tachibana was captain, after all.

"Doubles?"

Her eyebrows knit together, as if mildly offended by the assumption. "Sometimes, but I'm more of a singles player."

He nods his head at the empty court nearby. "Play with me. Doubles." He points his racket at the two guys behind them, still arguing despite the crowd that has suddenly gathered around them, weary and fearful. He knows that she's staring at him, shocked or confused or both, but he doesn't turn his back. "Grab those two morons. We're playing against them."

• • •

_**To: **__Atobe Keigo_

_**From: **__Hiyoshi Wakashi_

_**Subject: **__(no subject)_

_I apologize if I'm disturbing you, buc—_

_No_, he decides resolutely, fingers curling as they hover over the keyboard. There is no way in hell that he's making Atobe think that he's still thinking of him as his captain. _No_ _way_ in hell. _He_'s the captain of the middle school tennis team now. Hiyoshi deletes everything, and starts from the beginning.

_I apologize if I'm disturbing you. I'm aware that you are busy with your new high school schedule, but I'm hoping that you could spare a few minutes to meet with me in person. You may decide the time and place if you wish._

_There's merely something that I'm curious about, and I wish for it to be done in person._

_- H.W._

He looks it over, feeling satisfied. It sounds respectful at least, and vague enough to grab Atobe's curiosity.

He grimaces at the realization that he might have no choice but to leave practice in Ohtori's hands. Considering Atobe's usual busy schedule — with high school, tennis, and family obligations — he doubts that a meeting during the weekends will happen that easily.

• • •

They meet up the next day.

Hiyoshi momentarily forgets worrying about the practice he's missing at the moment. Atobe is watching him in _that_ way — as though he's someone worth looking at to now. Hiyoshi pretends not to notice the difference. It's rare, some would even say legendary, for this guy to give someone who is not his tennis rival or Kabaji his undivided attention. The last time the former captain has glanced at him with this gaze was when Hiyoshi has finally understood the spirit of Hyoutei that Atobe has been trying to convey to him all these years.

He thinks that he's done something good, this time.

The cafe that Atobe has chosen to meet him in is less extravagant than Hiyoshi has imagined, but then again, while Atobe is naturally flamboyant, it all comes down to personal _tastes_. The cafe is simple, but elegant, and the atmosphere is light and clear against the backdrop of a late morning city view. Atobe enjoys good scenery more than anything else.

"Kabaji in doubles, _ah_?"

A beat passes, and Hiyoshi decides to say the plain truth. "Ohtori mentioned it."

He doesn't miss the flicker that passes through Atobe's eyes.

"Ohtori, I see," he murmurs softly.

Hiyoshi looks down on the tea in his hands, lips pursing. He doesn't want to ask what that look means, so he continues on with the previous train of thought. "I've never seen Kabaji play doubles before."

"He's not a very good doubles player to begin with," Atobe remarks thoughtfully, his chin resting on his knuckles. When Hiyoshi looks up, his eyes seem distant, if not wistful. He gets the impression that Atobe is _missing _Kabaji. "However, if his partner can keep him grounded and focused, he will manage well. He's a very tricky guy to deal with at first, that Kabaji, but you will get used to him."

"You were the only one who could play doubles with him last year," Hiyoshi points out.

Atobe raises an eyebrow elegantly. "You're mistaken, Hiyoshi. _I _was the only one who _wanted_ to play doubles with him." At the look on his face, Atobe's lips curl into a humorless smirk. "Surprised, are you? Like I said, Kabaji is very tricky to deal with when playing doubles, but the same is to be said outside of tennis. People don't understand him, and so avoids him. Some are even afraid of him. Others would rather make fun of him, call him brainless, a robot I've made, or even a monster."

Hiyoshi winces at that, guilty as charged, but Atobe continues on as though he doesn't notice.

"It makes trusting someone difficult for him, and Kabaji is a very delicate person. He needs someone to understand him, first of all." He pauses in between, sipping from his coffee. Hiyoshi says nothing, noting that the silence Atobe left isn't final, not yet. "Friendship is a two-way street, Hiyoshi, and you should care to remember that when dealing with him, on _and _off the court."

"I see," says Hiyoshi slowly, eying his former captain with only the barest flash of confusion in his eyes. "Thanks."

"Would you care to hear my opinion?" Atobe asks, gracious at best, after a pregnant pause.

He refrains from pointing out that Atobe has _already _expressed his opinions, and very clearly at that, but apparently, he's still not done. "I don't mind," he mutters, knowing that he doesn't have a choice either way.

"Consider playing doubles with him," he says plainly.

That makes Hiyoshi pause. "…Me?"

"Yes." He notes that Atobe hasn't shown any signs of even the barest flicker of hesitation. "However, it will be best if you do it. While it's true that Ohtori is the better doubles player, he's unfortunately far too soft. Kabaji responds better to a leader, and you're the captain this year."

A proverbial light bulb lights up over Hiyoshi's head. "…Is that why you order him around so much?"

Atobe is silent at that, and he quickly shuts his mouth, knowing that he's gone too far. He may feel some contempt for his former captain (mainly on the amount of work that he has to do in order to even think of surpassing him), but there is no real animosity. He will not admit it loudly, but Atobe doesn't deserve the way he's flippantly asked such a personal question.

"Kabaji follows me because he wants to," Atobe explains softly, and Hiyoshi feels as though he's being trusted with a huge secret and an even bigger obligation. "I've always said — and _I_ don't _lie_ — that I'm at my happiest when he's by my side, and so he stays with me." He pauses, his fingers playing with the coffee cup's handle. Hiyoshi looks away, uncomfortable at the turn of the conversation. "Having said that, however, the fact that I was the leader of the team was, shall we say, the bonus."

The way he says the word 'bonus' makes Hiyoshi think that it really isn't one.

"He follows me without hesitation because he doesn't question my leadership. He knows what I'm capable of. Regardless," Atobe clears his throat, "think about what I just said, Hiyoshi. You're the captain of the team now, of course." He flashes Hiyoshi a smile, amused and knowing, which Hiyoshi answers with a frown. "It's your decision, isn't it, _ah_?"

He still has Atobe's attention, he notes silently, and maybe that's a good thing.

• • •

"Is there anything else you wish to talk to me about?"

Hiyoshi realizes how late it is when he notices the orange hue of the setting sun settling over the city streets. Atobe is watching him, waiting, as though he's expecting another question, and Hiyoshi doesn't know what to tell him. Is there anything else that he should be talking about? He doesn't think so. He gives his former captain a fleeting glance, and then shakes his head.

"No," he says shortly. "Thank you for coming to see me, Atobe-buchou."

He grimaces instantly, and Atobe laughs as he stands up. "You will never be able to get rid of that little habit of yours, Hiyoshi." He seems happy about that, though (which is more than what Hiyoshi can say for himself). "If you're planning to go to Hyoutei's high school department next year, you will definitely not be able to get rid of it."

Yes, he is indeed planning to go to Hyoutei's high school, and not because everyone else from their old Hyoutei team is there as well. He snorts; he has figured that Atobe would become the captain again once he got in the club.

"I'm sure you'll feel a lot differently once I beat you next year," he says offhandedly, and Atobe replies with a smirk, confident and satisfied and ready to wait.

• • •

_**From: **__Kirihara  
><em>_**Text: **__why are you suddenly playing doubles with that kabaji guy? are you going to play together next wednesday? you better not._

Hiyoshi's eyebrows twitch as he reads the short message. First of all, the lack of proper grammar irks him to no end. _Kirihara_ irks him. Anyone who questions his newfound authority irks him. Anything that _implies _that his authority is being questioned irks him. There are so many spectacular reasons why he should just chuck his phone under his bed leave the guy rotting as he waits for the answer in baited breath, but against all reason, he doesn't.

In a way, he doesn't really want to. There's a bubble excitement at the pit of his stomach that he can't correctly identify, but he figures that it has something to do with the fact that he has one up against this guy, and the tournaments haven't even started yet. After a moment, he gives in to temptation and baits him.

_No, but we just might in the Nationals_, he types anyway. _Doubles 2 in the Finals, to get the first match over with_.

He presses send.

Barely a minute later has passed and his phone beeps. He can feel Kirihara's glare boring holes into his head as he reads his reply.

_**From: **__Kirihara  
><em>_**Text: **__you asshole you better be in singles 3 when we play your team so i can beat you to the ground first thing._

He thinks that Ohtori is wrong in thinking that he's the only person to assume the possibility of his team going to (and winning) the National Tournament. Rikkai has always been ambitious, after all.

• • •

Ohtori pauses in his playing, glancing at his face, then he smiles, in a knowing fashion that just rubs Hiyoshi the wrong way.

"I'm glad you had that talk with Atobe-buchou," he says, resuming his piano practice despite (or, perhaps, because) of the sudden one-man audience. "You seem happier now."

"I wasn't depressed," he says quickly, angrily, but there's no real force behind it.

"I never said you were," he replies placidly, a half-smile gracing his face. Hiyoshi distractedly thinks that it's impressive that Ohtori can play a song with a fast tempo and still be able to speak to him. "You just seemed a little stressed out with everything that you have to deal with in the club, and I thought you might have needed a breather."

Hiyoshi stares at him, indignant. "You thought speaking to _Atobe-buchou_ would _relax_ me?"

"I thought getting _away _from the club for a moment would help you." Ohtori chuckles quietly, pausing once more. "Then, I also figured that if there's anyone who can understand what you're going through right now, it's our former captain. He may not be the easiest person to deal with, but he would have had an idea on what to do with you, at least."

"It didn't help."

Ohtori eyes him thoughtfully. "Didn't it?"

He scowls, squirming slightly underneath the piercing gaze. When Ohtori gives you his full attention, it's nothing to feel happy about. He can be as perceptive and shrewd as Seigaku's Inui if he wants to.

"No," he counters, standing his ground. At the back of his mind, he feels like he's lying to himself. "He's still frustrating to talk to."

"Whatever you say, Hiyoshi," he replies, cheerfully unaffected by his callous replies. He turns the sheet on the music rack, ready for another round. "You do seem a little less stringent now. Even the younger ones are noticing it. They've been asking me why you're in such a good mood these days. Sakaki has mentioned that the air around you has improved."

"Aren't they supposed to like that?"

"I didn't say they were complaining!" Ohtori insists airily. "In fact, they're very happy about it."

He pauses in his thoughts, giving Ohtori a small, lopsided, humourless smirk. "You shouldn't have told me that."

• • •

_**To: **__Hiyoshi Wakashi_

_**From: **__Atobe Keigo_

_**Subject: **__(no subject)_

_Never second guess your instincts, Hiyoshi. I ruled Hyoutei with an iron fist because that is what I thought was the best for the team that I wanted to take to the Nationals with me. I wanted to show them my capabilities and confidence, so they will be able to channel my strength and make it their own._

_It does not have to be the same for you. There are different kinds of strengths, and you just have to find your own._

_- A.K._

Hiyoshi glares ineffectively at the screen, glowering at the email before shutting his laptop shut. The email's _splendidly _helpful, really.

Too bad he's not fluent in 'Atobe'-speak.

**—****—**

**Last Edited: **14-Feb-2012


	4. To Trust

****Title: ****To Trust.  
><strong>Characters: <strong>Kirihara Akaya, Yukimura Seiichi, Yanagi Renji, Zaizen Hikaru  
><strong>Notes: <strong>And we're back to Kirihara this time! I can't resist - I love writing him.

Also, I apologize for not being able to respond to the reviews and PMs, since I've been very busy lately, but thank you so much for liking this story!

_**_****—****—****_**_

_**_****_From:**__ Zaizen  
><em>_**Text:**__ How safe do you think it will be if I were to tell my teacher that his wig is about to fall off in about a minute and a half?_

By the time English class has rolled in that Friday, Kirihara can barely keep his mouth from twitching in silent laughter, causing some of his classmates to look at him curiously. Discreetly, he waves his phone to them, and they all smirk, roll their eyes, and turn their attention back to their oblivious teacher, who is currently reading out loud a book that none of them has any care for. He wonders if today is like this for everyone he knows, it's a slow day, despite the quick breezy start of the open morning. He has three unread messages and four others that he's yet to reply to.

Misery loves company, he thinks, noticing that some of his classmates aren't even paying attention and will gladly shield him from the trouble that might rain down on him if worse comes to worst. He has the sixth seat in the class, after all, and it's almost too daring of him to use his phone when the teacher is close enough to notice. He's hardly the type to care, though, despite the raised eyebrows Kaede has been giving him. He makes a face and begins typing out a reply.

_you can't just say that and expect me to give you a lifeline out of the kindness of my heart. fish out more details, and i might just be gracious enough to throw in a jet ski._

He sends that, and then thumbs through the rest of his messages, biting his cheek so that he doesn't grin.

_**From:** Yagyuu-sempai  
><strong>Text:<strong> Niou-kun clings to the belief that Sanada-kun, or the 'empress' as he so fondly calls him nowadays, has offended his pride. I doubt that the mental wounds are permanent. I trust that you're smart enough not to be pulled by his usual antics._

_**From:** Niou-sempai  
><strong>Text:<strong> I swear, every time I pull a Tezuka, I see smoke coming out of his nose and horns out of his big, stupid head. Apparently, Sanada is a sore winner._

_**From:** Masato  
><strong>Text:<strong> Arashima wants me to tell you to tell Urayama to shut up about you. The kid worships you. It's like seeing how you used to worship the ground Yukimura-buchou walked on._

At that last one, Kirihara's face twists into an indignant snarl, but whatever reply he wants to send doesn't get past the tips of his fingers.

"Well," the teacher says loudly, making half the class jump in surprise. Kirihara dumps the phone in his bag, already strategically half-open near his feet. "Quite a refreshing start to the new school year, isn't it? This is a good book."

No one bothers replying, and Kaede and Kirihara glance at each other, sidelong, hiding their smirks behind their hands. The teacher doesn't blink, but the frown is there, barely visibly behind the wrinkles that do not suit his young face. The one thing a new teacher dislikes is a class full of uninterested students, and because of that, they will certain make a fool of themselves if that meant the children would listen.

"If someone wants to volunteer and read the next two paragraphs for me…"

Kirihara pinches the bridge of his nose and groans inwardly for the next half-hour. He's not the only one.

• • •

On Zaizen's new text, received exactly a minute and a half after the time-stamp of his first message, he's managed to attach a picture of a bald man with whites for eyebrows and a aghast look on his face as he scrambles on the floor in search for a missing part of his head, as though Armageddon has come early and he still hasn't filed insurance for the shine on his scalp. Kirihara can already imagine the mischievous smile plastered on Zaizen's face without seeing him.

_Forget the jet ski_, the message reads. _Two weeks in Tahiti, all expenses paid._

Kirihara hides his laughter behind suspiciously loud coughs, though his face is red enough for the teacher to worry about his well-being rather than assume that he's somehow planted the 'kick me' sign that he's recently found behind his back.

Kaede is laughing behind as the teacher continues to fuss, but for different reasons.

• • •

"I could kill the both of you right now," Masato murmurs, rolling his eyes at the two people behind him as they walk out of the clubroom dressed in their tennis club uniforms and with their rackets at hand. "If you've been caught, you would have been stuck in the office during club hours doing _god_-knows-_what_, and I would have had to run this damn team all by myself."

"Killing us is actually the most counterproductive thing you will ever do in your life, do you realize?" Kirihara muses out loud, resting his arm around Masato's shoulder good-naturedly. "Plus, it's not necessarily a bad thing, you know? It's not like they're going to eat their own vice-captain or anything."

"I dare hope that they don't try," he replies casually, and Kaede laughs behind him. "Hypothetically speaking, I _am_ allowed to give them five hundred laps."

"Relax, will you?" Kaede thumps him in the back, much to the other person's chagrin. Masato is not in a good mood, but it seems that Kaede is on the opposite end of the spectrum — which is always a bad thing, Kirihara thinks idly. "All teachers _love_ Kirihara. They won't ever assign detention on the current captain of the club that made the school really famous. They're still afraid of Yukimura-sempai, and Kirihara definitely channels his inner Yukimura when trying to convince them of his 'innocence'."

The last word is emphasized with air quotes, and Masato snorts. Kirihara is not so pleased.

"I'm going to kill you," he growls, aiming a punch at Kaede, who dodges expertly.

"Oh, stop being such idiots!" Masato mutters under his breath as they reach the tennis courts. "If the team sees you acting like idiot kids, they'll lose all the respect they have of this team, if they even had any in the first place."

"What an encouraging speech," Kirihara says caustically, shaking his head.

"This is why you chose him as your vice-captain, isn't it?" Kaede says, pointing a wriggling finger at Masato. Masato stares at the offending hand with raised eyebrows before walking away, grumbling nonsensical things under his breath. Kirihara grunts at them both. "Absolutely no fun at all. You sure are worse than Sanada-sempai on his off-days."

Masato rolls his eyes. "I am not—"

Kirihara chooses this moment to interrupt, his ears ringing and his face twitching in a mesh of irritation and amusement. "If you two idiots don't mind, we're here now, so behave, aright? We're supposed to show a good example."

He looks at Masato at that, his eyes teasing, and the latter just rolls his eyes again.

Calling out to the club whose members are already stretching their arms and legs, much to his delight as the club captain, Kirihara loudly says, "Second-years, you'll have practice matches in courts C, D, E, and F. Muraoka, Nijo, Saigo, Osaki—" four of the second-years jump when their names have been called, their faces flushing at the same time, and in the same damn shade of red, which Masato finds hilarious for some reason, for he has covered his mouth to hide a smile "—the four of you will be the umpires. The first-years will get ready for ball-fetching."

"Yes, sir!"

"It's like this club is your cult," Masato says quietly. "They worship you like you've been sent by the gods, or something."

"Sent by the 'child of god', more like," Kaede whispers, coughing suspiciously behind his head.

"The regulars are staying with me in courts A and B," Kirihara says, a little louder, as to drown out the other two's voices. The crowd begins to disperse, shuffling behind the five other males in front of the crowd wearing the regular jerseys. "We'll play a few rounds against each other in singles, and then we're shuffling around during our doubles practice to find good combinations between the eight of us. All of you suck at doubles, so we're going to improve on that later on. Ezakiya, Kaede — court A. Takaishi, Honda — court B. Play like you're aiming to finish one set, but you will stop if I tell you to. Urayama, Uoya, you'll be the umpires for now. Go."

"I still think that Ezakiya should partner up with Kaede," Masato reiterates immediately, rolling his shoulders casually as they sit on the bench that gives them a good view of both matches. Kirihara realizes that he's never going to give this issue up until Kirihara's theories have proven themselves, so he lets it go for now. "And you should consider retiring from doubles and become a permanent singles player. Doubles doesn't suit your personality."

Kirihara's lips quirk upward. "That's not exactly what Yanagi-sempai said."

"I stand corrected," Masato declares. "Doubles this year doesn't suit you because you don't have the right partner for it. Your ego boosts don't help, either. One of these days, your partner is going to strangle you."

"Maybe," he says thoughtfully, ignoring the latter comments, "but it's still fun."

"I thought you were here to win."

"The road to success doesn't have to look so grim. I can have fun smashing balls if I want to." He pauses, raising his eyebrow at the drop shot Honda makes, barely passing over the net, but based on the look on Honda's face, he's done exactly what he's wanted to do. "Now, there's an ideal doubles player for you. Being a serve-and-volleyer is better if you've got someone protecting you from behind."

Masato hums thoughtfully. "Uoya?"

"Ezakiya," Kirihara replies easily. "They're best friends. Even better."

"The value of experience outweighs potentially limitless talent, I suppose?" says the vice-captain, teasing once more. "We'll see in the doubles matches but I suppose it's all well and good. Trust is always the key."

"It's not limitless if it's overrated."

"It's only limitless because it is overrated." Masato pause for a short while, a thought weighing in his mind. "We are playing against each other after they're done, aren't we? I think I've grown stiff, watching them but not playing with them."

Kirihara laughs. "You'll get your chance eventually."

"What do you _mean_ eventually?"

• • •

Yukimura's face is glowing, a smug _'I told you so'_ written all over it, and Yanagi isn't faring any better with his silent, knowing smiles. Kirihara wonders, as he grumpily stuffs his face with food, why he's even bothering hanging out with them after school when all they've been doing ever since he's arrived is make fun of him.

Still, it's much better than the awkward silences that he's had to endure during their last days in the middle school tennis club, so he supposes that he can't complain too much. The fact that Sanada isn't there is also an added bonus, since he doesn't have to bother with the reminders of his glares and imposing silence that, in retrospect, never really has much of a positive effect on either of them.

All things considered, they at least have had the courtesy of treating him for his meal, which isn't so bad.

"I see now that you've made the right decision in choosing him as your vice-captain, Akaya," says Yanagi serenely, though his eyes are on Yukimura, whose face is anything but innocent. "He gives you valuable insights and isn't afraid to speak up against your decisions. It's rare to find someone so brave these days."

Kirihara takes one good look at them both, and rolls his eyes heavenward. They will never stop being pointedly smug about this, are they? "He's a pain in the ass, but I guess he's okay," he grumbles, grudgingly admitting. "Sometimes he just needs to learn how to shut up."

"Masato is highly opinionated, yes," Yukimura concurs. "But he's a very rational person. He will never come across as someone who desires absolute control. He merely is the kind of person who wants the best in everything he does and cares for, even if his opinion is of the minority most of the time. I have noticed the tendency last year, which is why I recommended him to you. He's good for you. Much better than Kaede, who's just as hot-headed as you are."

Yukimura turns to Yanagi, smiling. "He reminds me of you in a way, Renji."

"A rather quaint assumption," says Yanagi serenely. "Quarrelling with Genichirou on a regular basis is my field of expertise."

Yukimura laughs but Kirihara furrows his brows, frowning.

"Really?"

Frankly, the only time he's seen Yanagi out of Sanada's good graces has been when he lost to Seigaku's Inui Sadaharu in the Kantou Finals last year. Understandably enough, of course, as it also affected the entire team at large.

"You don't believe it, do you?" Yanagi asks, his own eyebrows rising, though not unkindly. If his eyes were open, Kirihara _just_ knows that they would have looked at him with a glow of amusement. "Genichirou and I argue far more than the two of you ever have in your lifetime, Akaya, though perhaps less openly. We value the privacy of our friendship, so any and all affairs are well hidden from others who have nothing to do with them. Of course, Yukimura's illness did very little to discourage Genichirou's flaring temper," he glances at Yukimura out of the corner of his eyes, who remains serene throughout, "or my own back then, but it's getting better now, at least."

"You don't seem like the type to argue with Sanada-sempai all that much," Kirihara points out. There's more to the three of them that what anyone else knows, and for some reason, he feels cheated by it. "I expected it to be Yukimura-buchou, not you. I always thought that you're more like the peacemaker between the two of them."

"Seiichi gets along better with Genichirou than I do, as a matter of fact," Yanagi informs him smoothly. "It's not unfair to say that we merely have different personalities, and sometimes we clash. He acts on his intuition. I'd rather stay with my logic."

Kirihara hums thoughtfully. "That makes sense."

"Truthfully, I was always just the sounding board," Yukimura chuckles softly.

"Is that a bad thing?" Yanagi teases gently, nudging his shoulder.

Yukimura pokes him with his elbow, making Yanagi drink his coffee out, but quietly. "Genichirou can tell you five hundred different reasons why it is," he tell him, mildly scolding, "and I will probably agree with about two hundred of them."

"Do tell."

"Your desire to recreate, improve, and utilize Inui's strengthening juices, for example, was thought-provoking, but mostly unappealing," Yukimura reveals ruefully. Kirihara makes a face, expressing his disgust at the thought. "While it's a good incentive for the team to work harder, the thought of coming to practice only to find that I don't have a team to return to any longer wasn't as amusing as you thought it was — and it still isn't!"

"It helped your rehabilitation then, didn't it?" Yanagi quips, cracking a small smirk that seems so Yanagi, and Yukimura shoots him a dirty look. "A few more weeks without you and Genichirou would have cracked under the pressure eventually. At least a part of my plan was a success."

"That," Kirihara begins, "has got to be the worst idea you've ever had, Yanagi-sempai."

Yanagi turns to him and gives him a slow smile. "You're not going to reconsider?"

"There's no way in hell that I'm going to do that," he declares loudly, slamming his drink on the table, much to the annoyance of the other people surrounding them. He pays them no heed. "My team's just fine following orders. It might just kill them on the inside, and I want to have a team to take to the Nationals."

Yukimura's eyes brighten, and Kirihara tries not to flush at that.

"How is the team this year, Akaya?" he asks gently as he bites down on his own meal.

"They're better than I expected, which is a good thing," Kirihara says, the small smirk on his face proud and confident. "They still have a lot to learn, but by the time the tournaments roll in, they'll be the perfect team. I've no real complaints, other than that they should really shut up and just play tennis."

"That's good," murmurs Yukimura, mostly to himself, and mostly contemplative. "I was worried."

Kirihara, even with his (very, he must add) improved self-control, can't help but scowl a little at that.

"That Rikkai won't do well without you?" He tries not to snap, and instead makes it sound like a genuine question. Yukimura's eyes locks with his, sharp and piqued, but Kirihara can't help but look away. "Well, it's not the same, obviously. You guys were amazing. There won't be another team in the world that's like ours last year. Everyone knows that."

Yanagi picks up his teacup in the midst of the thickening atmosphere, his own calmness resonating through the clinking of china. Yukimura seems to snap out of his thoughts, his back straightening in an instant, then loosening just as quickly.

"That's not what I meant, Akaya," Yukimura explains, after a beat of silence. "I was worried that carrying the burden of being Rikkai's captain would get to you."

"It isn't," Kirihara replies quickly, fiercely. "I can do it."

"Yes, I… know." Yukimura sighs briskly, his forehead mildly scrunching up. "I can't help that I worry for you, can I? We were teammates once. _Friends_," he adds, with an odd emphasis on the word that makes Kirihara flinch back a little, an action the former captain doesn't fail to notice with his sharp eyes. "I will always worry."

"I… know," he swallows thickly. "But you shouldn't… anymore. I don't need to be protected."

"No," Yukimura agrees lightly, his face unreadable though his eyes are glinting sharply. "I shouldn't. And you don't. I know that."

Kirihara's lips twitch as his frown continues to settle on his face as though it's meant to be there permanently from now on, under the table his free hand is curled into a fist, wrinkling his pants. He squirms a little in his seat, uncomfortable under the heavy gaze of both his former teammates, and avoids either person's eyes.

He forgets, sometimes, that all of them have been more than teammates, elders, and mentors to him. He slightly wishes that he has kept his big, fat mouth shut and let Yukimura say what he wants to say.

He wants to say something, _I'm sorry _or something equally sincere, but his mouth won't say the words.

Yanagi, after a few cackling beats of awkward silence, throws the both of them a lifeline.

"Genichirou is waiting for us at his house, so I believe that it's best that we leave now before the sun sets," he informs Kirihara quietly. "I remember you telling me that you and your parents have things to talk about, regarding a winter trip this year, so they want you to come home early. Am I right?"

A lifeline, a quick escape. Yanagi is making it easy.

"Yeah," he replies weakly.

Yukimura nods, then, his face completely solemn. "We should get going, then."

• • •

"I'm so screwed!" he moans despondently, his head hitting his desk with a loud thud. He doesn't care. He hardly feels the pain, having endured far worse. "I feel like the stupidest person right now. I can believe I said all those shit to Yukimura-buchou. Tell me I'm the stupidest person right now."

"_You are the stupidest person right now_," says the voice in his ear dutifully, perpetually callous, and cool.

Kirihara glares at the hard wood ineffectively, gripping his phone. "You didn't have to say it like you mean it!"

"_I don't know what you want me to say to you_," Zaizen replies, naturally unsympathetic to his plight. Kirihara feels as though if he were here, Zaizen would be rolling his eyes and/or punching his face right now. "_You said something stupid, so naturally someone's going to be upset. But that's their deal if they are_."

What a very-Zaizen thing to say.

Kirihara ponders, not for the first time since this conversation has begun, on why he has even called this guy. Other people might have been more useful, like Hiyoshi.

He makes a face at the thought.

"I shouldn't have—"

"_That doesn't matter now, since you've already done it_," Zaizen cuts him off. Offhandedly, Kirihara hears the mild scratching of pens on paper, and mild music in the background. "_You've been meaning to tell him that since the very beginning, right? The way you said it was really tactless, by the way, but it got the point across, didn't it?_"

"That wasn't exactly the point I was trying to make, genius," Kirihara says impatiently, throwing an arm over his head. Zaizen gave him a noncommittal grunt that sounded awfully like a snort. "Yukimura-buchou hasn't exactly… done anything. He's been staying away from the club for my sake. He worries, he asks questions from time to time, but he doesn't interfere… I didn't have to make it sound like I was ungrateful for all he's done for me…"

"…_And you say that you have to beat those guys someday in order to be number one_," Zaizen comments offhandedly. "_I don't think you even realize how big your inferiority complex is_."

"What?" Kirihara yelled hotly, his back straightening immediately. The image of Zaizen picking his nails out of boredom comes to mind for a fleeting second.

"_If you feel that guilty then apologize_," comes the nonchalant advice, ignoring the outburst. "_You're not completely guilty, though. You meant what you said. You just didn't say it the way you wanted to, and you ended up being more embarrassed over your honesty than anything_."

_Bingo_, Kirihara thinks wryly.

He gives no verbal response.

"_Kirihara_," Zaizen goes on, his voice dropping to an uncharacteristically soft tone, that for a moment, Kirihara honestly thinks that he's about to say something worth listening to, "_talk to him the next time you see him instead of whining like a baby. The part really suits you, but I'd hate to be the sounding board again_."

So much for that.

"Shut up," Kirihara barks, with no real bite to it. "I don't even know why I'm talking to you about this."

"_I'm a fountain of wisdom_," says Zaizen matter-of-factly, "_of which you obviously lack_."

"I'm hanging up," he warns.

"_Just remember that Yukimura's not that stupid, and I suppose you'll be okay_," Zaizen points out, picking up from where they have left off. "_He's been where you've been. You didn't exactly make it easy for him to empathize with you earlier, but he'll understand, and he'll get over it eventually_."

Kirihara winces, making a small, whining sound at the back of his throat.

"_You're absolutely hopeless_," Zaizen notes wryly. "_I need to go now. I've got things to do, so don't call me back_."

Before he realizes it, the other boy has hung up. Kirihara scowls at his phone before flipping it shut. "Fucktard."

Somehow, he feels better, though. Perhaps, that's okay, for now.

_****—****—****_

_********_****Last Edited:**** 14-Feb-2012


	5. If It's a Grin, It's a Win

**Title:** If It's a Grin, It's a Win.  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Zaizen Hikaru, Shiraishi Kuranosuke, Oshitari Kenya.**  
><strong>**Notes:** More Zaizen this time, something of an interlude before we go back to the main 'plot' and all, but it's not so far off the tangent. It picks up from a couple of days after last chapter's last escapade, but this time it's in Zaizen's view of things. I hope you guys enjoy this one, because without a doubt, it's currently my most favorite chapter.

**—****—**

"Hikaru?"

Blinking out of his thoughts, Zaizen finds himself looking into the eyes of his former doubles partner, whose face is scrunched up in an expression of concern that seems so out of place on his normally carefree expression. Kenya's bending down, his hands on his bare knees, and examining his face up close. He isn't the only one, however, and idly, he notices that his former captain is also looking at him with curious eyes as he sits down beside him.

"Your face is too close, sempai," Zaizen deadpans.

Kenya leans back, but only slightly. "You all right?"

It's a nice day outside, light breezes rolling along, as the spring season becomes a constant for the next two months or so. Overhead, the sky is a clear shade of periwinkle blue, but Zaizen has to squint every time he tries to look upward. The mid-morning hour is perfect, with the high tide gathering on the coast and attracting more visitors to play with the sands and the water. Osaka's sceneries have always been beautiful.

They have decided to go out spend some time on the beach during the weekend, randomly spurned by Kintarou's desire to collect some seashells, an idea he's gotten from Rokkaku's captain, Kentarou, who seems to have become his friend due to their similar personalities. With Shiraishi thinking that it's a Really Good Idea, and Koharu threatening to kiss anyone who even _thinks _about declining the team's chances to bond together, there really isn't any ideal way to avoid them.

Gin, the unfortunate designated babysitter for the day, is following Kintarou around with a few pails around his large arms, though he looks surprisingly serene. Chitose is speaking to a few people he just happens to know from somewhere (honestly, Zaizen doesn't want to know). Koishikawa is nowhere to be found, though it's not as though anyone will remember he's even there in the first place. Despite the disgust he feels with being in the presence of his two stupid seniors currently chasing each other in the waters, and the headache he has to endure with Kintarou's incessant cheerful yelling, Zaizen feels much better being with the old team that he can call his second family, however grudgingly.

At the moment, however, his mind is getting ahead of him as his thoughts begin to clutter in his head. Before his very eyes, the waves of the Osaka beaches move further along the coastline, tantalizing and soothing to the eyes and ears, though neither Kenya nor Shiraishi seem to notice them, waiting for Zaizen to speak.

The frown on his face curves further down. Damn, he can't get out of this, can he? Of all people to come and talk to him about his 'odd behaviour', it has to be _these_ two.

"I'm fine."

"You sure don't look like it right now, though," Shiraishi comments idly, his bare feet shuffling in the sand. "You seem a little lost in thought, which isn't like you at all. You're always so focused no matter what."

"You know you can always tell us if there's something bothering you, right?" Kenya kneels on the sand in front from Zaizen, his eyes earnest. "Is it about the club? Is anyone giving you trouble?"

For some reason, the question irks Zaizen, and his answer is abrupt. "No."

Kenya blinks.

Shirashi's eyes flicker for only second before he looks away, eyes fixed deliberately on anything else _but _him. Zaizen has caught the look in his eyes, however, and tries not to scowl so openly — so _this_ is what Kirihara has been talking about, isn't it? _Fuck_. He doesn't even want to know for how long Shiraishi has been looking at him like that. All he knows is that when he sees Kirihara, he will punch him in the face for making him notice it.

Zaizen is a firm believer that ignorance is bliss.

"The club is going along just fine," he adds, as firmly and as casually as he can muster. "Kintarou's my only problem, but that's to be expected. I don't have poisonous hands, after all." He glowers at Shiraishi's bandaged hands, out of either contempt or envy, he doesn't know exactly.

The ash-haired boy laughs at that, turning back to him. His eyes are vibrant, which always a sight to see, but Zaizen can tell that he's holding back some things. He can't tell whether it's a good or bad thing. "We should have made it some sort of club tradition. Whoever becomes captain will have to bear with the poisoned hands for a year."

"I don't want to look as lame as you," Zaizen intones blandly.

"Haven't you heard? The health-freaks are taking over! Bandages and band-aids are in style these days." Kenya laughs. Shiraishi aims to kick him, but Kenya pushes his feet away with a smirk. "I wonder what would've happened once Kin-chan became the captain next year, though, if you managed to convince Zaizen to wear those."

"At this rate, I'm thinking of giving the title to someone else, just so they can control him," Zaizen says, rolling his eyes. "That idiot coach just won't listen to me. He thinks Kin-chan is God's gift to the world and I should be nicer to him."

"Well, perhaps when the year's over, we'll see if he's deserving of the title," Shiraishi smiles softly. "I have faith in Kin-chan, though. I've always believed in him from the start, the same way I've always believed that you would make a very good captain after we're gone."

Any other day, Zaizen might have rolled his eyes, or say something completely indifferent, or just walk away completely, but he finds it difficult to even muster the energy to move the muscles on his face and summon a frown. Based on the look on Shiraishi's face, and the silence after his little speech, he's figured out (part of) what's wrong. Zaizen feels the guilt etching a rather large mark under his skin, carving his heart like a knife dipped in poison.

That metaphor itself is clichéd and stupid, and Zaizen really _is _going to break Kirihara's nose when he sees him.

Kenya, however, remains oblivious, if not increasingly worried and impatient. "So, what's been bothering you, Hikaru? You can't avoid the question forever, you know. You'll have to answer me eventually!"

Zaizen sighs, leaning back with his hands supporting resting on the sands to support him. "Don't force it out of me, or I won't tell you at all."

"Brat, that's not how you treat a sempai, you know!" Kenya exclaims. "Besides, I'm just worried, okay! You never act like this, so it's seriously grating on my nerves!"

"Like what?"

"You're just so… passive today," Kenya frowns, observing him. Shiraishi has turned away again, watching the careless waves around them, a sign that Zaizen takes as his way of acquiescing with Kenya. "When we invited you out here, we seriously thought you were going to say 'no' despite the threats. Koharu was prepared to do something drastic, just in case." Zaizen makes a face, wrinkling his nose out of habit, and Kenya chuckles. "Imagine our surprise when you agreed. And you were even already waiting for us when we arrived at your house! We figured that you were just in the mood to go to the beach today, so they let it slip."

Zaizen frowns ruefully. "'They'?"

"Yeah, well, you know Shiraishi and I are pretty stubborn once we set our mind on something," Kenya says proudly, returning the favour with a wry smile of his own. "I'm your favourite sempai, after all, so of course I want to know everything!" Zaizen snorts out a laugh, not entirely disagreeing but not confirming the statement's authenticity, either. "And Shiraishi… well, you know how he is, he's a natural mother hen."

He laughs carelessly. Shiraishi throws sand to his face, making him splutter when they've gotten inside his mouth and burns his tongue.

"W-Why you—!"

"I dare you to say that again, and I _will_ make your life a living hell," Shiraishi warns him, on the verge of hysterical laughter.

Kenya snarls playfully, "Oh is that it! I'd like to see you try—!"

Zaizen reminds himself firmly that face palming is not an option at the moment.

"It's not me," he says loudly, suddenly, _sullenly_, just as Kenya's about to wring his friend's neck. They both stop to look at him attentively, questioning. "I don't have a problem. At least, not… directly."

He finds himself grimacing at his own choice words.

"Then who has a problem?" Shiraishi asks.

"Kirihara."

He looks surprised — alarmed, even. "What happened?"

"Nothing much, he just did something stupid," Zaizen informs him. Somehow, unthinkably enough, he feels like squirming in his seat and working his way out of this conversation. He doesn't want Shiraishi's full attention on him as he supplies them the story. "He wasn't very tactful the other day when he was talking to his old captain. He said some things… they came out wrong."

"Is that so?"

Zaizen looks at him with a small grimace, but there's hardly any trace of surprise in his face. Acknowledgment, maybe. "Now I know he didn't tell you. Figures," he mutters the last word under his breath. Shiraishi scowls, but Zaizen chooses that moment to ignore him.

Kenya smirks. "I don't know how this would actually bother you, Mr. Master of Tact."

"Shut up, sempai," Zaizen barks. "Or I'm not telling."

"Yeah, yeah, okay. I promise I'll shut up." His eyes are sincere, and Zaizen's shoulders relax, realizing how tense he's been the past few minutes — months, even. "What's this about, then?"

"He just got a little carried away with his opinions and Yukimura didn't seem too pleased with him even after he's calmed down a bit." Zaizen notices Shiraishi pursing his lips, his eyes suddenly snake-like. "Mostly about Yukimura poking into his business when he's no longer a part of the club, and making it seem like he doesn't believe Kirihara would do a good job."

Kenya's eyes widen in comprehension slowly, as opposed to Shiraishi's fixed, narrowed gaze.

"That's what Yukimura probably heard from him," Zaizen shakes his head, "but that's not what he really wanted to say."

"I see," Shiraishi says slowly.

Kenya looks between them, feeling the palpable tension increase as the seconds tick by. It doesn't take a genius to know the real issue, and that he is somehow intruding in something he will never be able to understand. As he mutters some lame excuse Zaizen doesn't hear, he walks away from the other two, knowing that this is the kind of conversation that he doesn't have any right to listen to, even if he badly wants to.

Shiraishi looks as though he wants Zaizen to explain himself more, while Zaizen just wants to leave. He wonders about the possibility of being out of Shiraishi good graces if he walks away right now, in the middle of a discussion that involves the two them on a much more personal level. As it is, however, his old captain wants nothing more than to discuss things with his junior and get it over with before things get more complicated between them.

"Have you ever wondered why I chose you?"

Zaizen looks up.

"It has very little to do with the fact that you were a regular last season, though it was obviously an added incentive," Shiraishi smiles wryly, watching Zaizen's expressions with fondness in his eyes. "I could have easily chosen one of the other new regulars if I felt that you weren't ready for the job. Like Masamoto, for example. He has exemplary leadership skills. Not enough charisma to really pull a team in through tight corners, let alone an entire club, but in time, he might have done well. Still, he's nothing compared to you."

"He's my vice captain now," Zaizen points out. "You appointed him."

"I figured he could teach you a thing or two about politeness, if not tact." Shiraishi chuckles quietly.

Zaizen can't help but grunt at that. As far as he's concern, Masamoto has less tact than a brick wall. Sadly enough, he's a very good tennis player whose skill he can't just help but accept in the team. What's more, the rest of them seem genuinely pleased with his acceptance as the vice-captain, those _idiots_.

"You're far more effective than he is as captain, though, and when I spoke to him about it, he agreed that you were the better choice." Now, that's a surprise, but Shiraishi is just smiling, as though he knows what he's thinking. "You can command the entire club with only a single word. You did that with the second-years last year, when I told you to watch over their practice when we got back from Tokyo. That's when I knew that you were made for this position."

Zaizen wrings his fingers absentmindedly. "They were just scared of me."

"Maybe in the beginning, but they've learned to respect you in time," says Shiraishi simply. "They've seen what you can do, and value your presence in the club. Some of them even admire the way say you what's on your mind without worrying about the consequences."

His lips quirked. "Because I always say something nasty to you, and you always listen instead of punishing me?"

"Maybe, but that's the thing, isn't it? No one else would do it but you," he points out. "Whether it's because you're just annoyed at everyone else or you think something really isn't going right, you don't care how you say it, as long as you make your opinions known. You barely had any respect for me," Shiraishi adds thoughtfully. At Zaizen's scrunched up expression, he laughs. "I suppose that's the difference between you and Kirihara-kun."

Zaizen has not expected that. "What?"

"Well, you're both opinionated, but he's far more subdued," Shiraishi muses. "Yukimura's doing, I suppose. Or perhaps it's just that he's never really found the reason to oppose them seriously, as you have with me. You're a gem, Zaizen — I'll give you that. He's like a diamond in the rough."

"You make it sound like it's a bad thing."

"I wouldn't know if it is." Shiraishi puts up one knee and rests his chin on it. "I never had that problem with you."

"You had a lot of other problems with me," Zaizen states point-blankly, and Shiraishi breathes out a silent laugh. "Why did you choose me as the captain?"

"Like I said, your fellow club members have learned to follow your lead," Shiraishi explains patiently. "They listen to you, respect you, and maybe yeah, they do even fear you a little. That's all well and good, really, because as a leader you always need to showcase your authority. It's less of the fact that you were made to lead, and more on that you were just born for it." He pauses a little. "I believe in your strength, Zaizen. I've yet to change my mind about that, because I know I'm right. With your skills at the forefront of the team, you're the core of their strength. That's why, no matter what you decide for the team, no matter whether or not I agree with you, I will always be there to support you in the end."

It's like a punch to the gut, those words, soft and subtle but as poignant the sound of the ocean, and Zaizen forces himself to look at Shiraishi in the eye. There's nothing but trust glistening in his eyes — trust, pride, and affection.

Shiraishi smiles lopsidedly. "I chose you because I want to be able to prove to everyone else that I didn't leave my team with any regrets."

He suddenly feels very humble, undeserving of the praise Shiraishi is showering him with. He looks down, snorting to himself inaudibly. Now _he_'s the one acting like the incredibly stupid person he _isn't_. When has he started thinking this way? It's no good.

_Whatever_, he finally decides inwardly.

"You know, sempai," he starts, feeling increasingly awkward, like a child who knows what he wants but can't figure out how to ask for it, "Kirihara's problem isn't mine. I don't mind if you get in my way."

There was a moment of silence, and Zaizen looks up just in time to see his former captain smiling. "I'll remember that. Thank you, Zaizen."

That, of all things, makes him smile a bit, too, even for just a little while.

• • •

"How's Hikaru?"

Shiraishi watches as Kenya decides to sit down on the chair beside him, a small smile grazing his expression as he continues to sip on his strawberry-banana smoothie. They're sitting in an open juice bar near the shoreline, resting away from the glare of the sun for only a few moments. Kintarou remains as the only one who apparently doesn't care about sheer heat wave crawling pn their skins as he continues to run around aimlessly, tripping over the sand with nothing less than a huge grin on his face. Shiraishi's relieved, at least, from his point of view here, they can watch over him without being there with him.

He grabs his own smoothie — coconut, orange, and pineapple in a mix — and sips it, his eyes roving around until they've landed on Zaizen hunched form a few tables away. His back is facing him; his shoulders more relax than he's seen them since the beginning of the year, and his fingers relentlessly typing away on his computer as though his life depends on it.

"The same grump as always, but he's getting better in the tact department," he replies placidly. "I'm surprised you left before we even got the chance to talk things over, Kenya. I had the feeling that you wanted to stay there and listen."

Kenya snorts. "Unlike some people, I actually _do_ mind about other people's privacy." He places his drink on the table, leaning back on his chair. "If either of you said you wanted me to stay, I would have. As it was, neither of you did, so I left. It's so simple."

He gives Kenya a crooked smile. "How considerate."

"Idiot," Kenya smiles back. "You know I don't really care about things like that. If I was going to stay, I'd stay because I worried about what you were going to do to each other when I'm gone."

Shiraishi raises an eyebrow suggestively. "I haven't touched him anywhere, I promise."

"You will never shut up about this, will you?" Kenya rolls his eyes, half-annoyed and half-exasperated. "I'm not talking about that. And we're nothing like Yuuji and Koharu, so don't get us mixed up with those two lovesick idiots."

"I'm not sorry." Shiraishi laughs.

"Obviously." He grunts in reply. "So, you've guys made it up?"

"I wonder if that's what you should call it, since we didn't have any argument to settle to begin with." Shiraishi hums thoughtfully, putting down his own drink as his eyes find Zaizen again, still hunched over his computer. He's probably writing on that 'secret' blog of his, he thinks suddenly, knowing without thinking that Zaizen has probably asked to be connected to the juice bar's wireless connection. "He said he doesn't mind if I get in his way."

It's Kenya's turn to laugh. "That's really Zaizen for you. It means that you can bother and mother over him to your heart's content, and he won't be prissy at you for it. Well, prissier than usual, anyway. At least, he won't freak out like that Kirihara guy had a few days back."

"Pity," Shiraishi says. "I'd have loved to see the look on his face."

"You have _got_ to let go of him one of these days, though," Kenya tells him after a bout of laughter. "He'll never grow up with you holding his hand all the time. He's already starting to care about the team as much you have."

"Then, until that happens, I'll just have to be there for him," Shiraishi declares softly. "He hasn't realized it yet, but that team — and tennis — will become his life. The game is more than just something to pass the time on. He'll want to win, for the sake of the tennis club that's been with him since the very beginning. That realization will be more than what he can handle at first. Zaizen's never been outwardly passionate about anything."

"That's not necessarily true," Kenya disagrees. "He loves music more than anything, you know. Before tennis, that's where he used to put his own life in. If he can show just how fiercely he can love tennis as much as he loves music, then you'll have nothing to worry about when that time comes."

"You know a lot about him," Shiraishi observes.

"You learn to know about him by asking him," he affirms. "He might think it's weird that you want to know more about him, but he won't care in the end. That's just how he is. He cares a lot more about the team than you think."

"Ah, but don't worry, I know my team, Kenya," he responds, his eyes twinkling.


	6. It's Catching

**Title: **It's Catching.  
><strong>Characters: <strong>Kirihara, Hiyoshi, Ohtori, some OCs  
><strong>Notes: <strong>Yes, I am still alive, and yes, this story is still continuing. I apologize for those who have been waiting for the next chapters to come up, but life has simply started getting hectic (especially during the winter season, the holidays, and when I moved to a new place and got a new job and everything just _had_ to start over), and writing had to put on pause. I'm back now, of course, though I'm not promising that the chapters will be put up as fast as before. I _do _promise that I will finish this story no matter what it takes.

Anyway, I hope you guys are alright with this chapter, and isn't too confused about anything.

Mild spoilers for _Shin Tenipuri_, though not too much.

**—****—**

Wednesday arrives easily enough for Kirihara. He wakes up one day and realizes that, _yes_, today is going to be amazing because at the end of the day, he's going to be kicking ass and beating Hiyoshi's team to a pulp. The thought has made him smile so widely that his sister has become somewhat mortified of him.

School hours begin and end as ordinarily as they can possibly do. In between classroom and teacher changes, he meets and greets classmates and friends, flirts away with girls who never really trust him not to do something stupid but laughs at his jokes anyway, and eats lunch with his friends just so he can steal their mothers' homemade meals. Not for the first time since the school year has started, Kirihara blinks at the normality of it all. He used to spend his days away with his former teammates, often forgetting that he has his own friends to hang out with until the day has ended and they have to walk home together after the club has dispersed. Aside from Kaede, who's always been by his side since the start of junior high, everyone else has a fresh face, a new face. He has always known that he's been missing out on a lot of things, but it has never mattered to him. Tennis has always been his life.

Still, the new school year has provided the changes, and he can't say he's not grateful for them.

"Hey, Kirihara," the guy who sits behind him greets him: Furuya, a lackadaisical guy, and member of the basketball club. He's never talked to Kirihara until the middle of their second-year, but now, they've been good friends since. "I heard that some guys from Hyoutei are coming over to play against with you."

"It's only for some practice matches," Kirihara shrugs carelessly.

"I remember when this random guy from Hyoutei barged inside the school and demanded to play against Sanada-sempai," Sagara, who's been listening to their conversation, pipes in. He's also a part of the tennis club, though unfortunately lacks the power or technique to become a regular. In addition, Kirihara doesn't _really_ like him, though he has his good points. When the occasion calls for it. "That was real stupid of him. He'd never stand a chance against Sanada-sempai."

Kirihara doesn't want to say what Yukimura had said to them afterward, to the whole team's shock and disbelief, that if the match had continued on, Sanada was the one who'd have lost despite the odds. Sanada's face had been priceless, but the realization that Atobe was merely using him to _test_ himself was an outrage that echoed across the courts that day. Instead, Kirihara opts to say silent, fumbling through his bag for his phone.

"Do you remember his name?"

"No," Sagara replies thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "I don't even remember his face."

Kirihara looks up and smirks at him, then. "It was Atobe."

"Whoa, seriously?" Sagara's eyes widen. "I remember now!"

Furuya frowns. "Isn't that that stupidly rich guy?"

"Hyoutei has a lot of stupidly rich guys," Sagara points out. "But yes, he's the most obnoxious of them all."

Kirihara snorts.

"You see how he is in the tennis courts, don't you?" Sagara eyes Kirihara with a furrow on his brow. He's a rather simple-minded person, Kirihara decides instantly, who only believes what he sees — another reason why Kirihara _knows_ he'll never be a regular in their team. "Throwing around his jacket in the air for the theatrics and acting like he's already won before the game even starts — no wonder they've lost against Seigaku twice. He's too arrogant, but people still look at him as if he's one of the best tennis players and act like there's nothing wrong about his attitude! He should be brought now a peg or two."

"You shouldn't say such things against people you don't personally know, Sagara," Kaede says, arriving fashionably late with an arm around Masato's shoulder. Kirihara looks over, noticing Masato's scowl and Kaede's solemn face, and knows that they have heard the entire conversation from the very beginning. "He may be flashy, but he's not just all talk. He backs them up with skill that you can't even dream of getting."

"Shut up, Torii," Sagara barks out, flushing a pale shade of red from head to toe. "I'm just saying that if he's that good, he doesn't have to rub it on people's faces. It'll only backfire on him."

"I don't think he cares about things like that," Kaede replies with a laugh, moving to his seat beside Kirihara. "He's never pegged me as a sore loser. He's just genuinely loud about his pride. If someone brings him down, and he'll just pull himself back up. Easy as pie."

"It's nice to be loud, but sometimes it just rubs people the wrong way," Furuya opines, but kindly. Kirihara lauds him for feeling (or even _looking_) hardly uneasy over all their tennis talk. "Still, though, if he's that arrogant, and he's still being treated with respect, then he must be really good."

"He _is _that good," Kirihara says, with mild annoyance. Not at him, though. His eyes are fixed on Sugara's stiff posture. "There is no 'if' about it."

"For you to say that is surprising," Furuya surmises.

"Because it's Kirihara?" Kaede lilts. "That's true, I guess. He worships the Great Three like burning. To say that some other player is good out loud is pretty rare of them."

"I'm just saying the truth, even if I don't like his attitude myself," Kirihara grunts, scowling. "He's been a national-level tennis player since his freshman days. A lot of scouts are watching him. They're waiting for him to graduate from college or even high school so that they can take him. That's not just something you get by a fluke."

"But there's more to strength than just being a good athlete, obviously," Masato intones, his lips twitching upward. "He was the captain of the junior high team last year. He was a very good leader. Everyone followed him without question."

Kaede laughs heartily. "He had an impressive cheering squad, too. All two-hundred members of the club knew how to chant his name that it was intimidating to play against his team."

Furuya chuckles. "That's scary. I'd never be able to concentrate."

"Yukimura-buchou is still the better captain!" Sagara declares hotly, halfway screaming that people have begun looking at their group to find out what the commotions all about. "Everyone follows him without question, too!"

"What's with the present tense, Sagara?" Kirihara asks casually through the whispers, making Sagara jump in surprise and turn around stiffly, like he's forgotten that Kirihara is there and is apparently in on their conversation, too. A breeze of uneasiness permeates around them, lingering on Sagara's pallid face. "Did you forget that I'm the current captain? Should I make you remember by running extra laps?"

By no means does he sound menacing, but if possible, Sagara's face pales some more. "N-No, that's—"

Kirihara tuts impatiently.

The bell rings.

"I gotta go," Furuya says quickly, bolting out of the classroom.

Masato, who's been trying not to laugh the entire time, murmurs his goodbye. Kaede turns to him with a smirk, before shrugging. Furuya, the easy-going guy that he is, tells him, "There are always going to be people like that. For what it's worth, I think you'll be a brilliant captain, if you aren't one already."

Kirihara snorts, but thanks him nonetheless.

• • •

Once they've seat on the tennis courts' bleachers, overlooking the practice matches without physically involving themselves in the process, he tells Hiyoshi the entire story. An apprehensive Furuya has been observing his captain the entire time, waiting for the lightning to strike. Kirihara leaves him to his anxiety, for now.

Hiyoshi is calm, but scornful and bitter that it makes Kirihara laugh all the more. "I suppose you forgot to inform him that Hyoutei has a new captain as well." He leaves out a few implications that Kirihara easily picks up. He knows exactly just how highly Hiyoshi thinks of himself, and when compared against Atobe, he likes to think that he's the better one. Kirihara will never, ever admit to their similarities.

"I was trying to remind him that Rikkai's own team has a different captain, too," Kirihara cites to him. "We have our work cut out for us, apparently."

"Speak for your own self, Kirihara," Hiyoshi says. "My team already knows my worth."

"Why do I get the feeling that you're only telling yourself that to feel better?"

"Delusion, Kirihara."

"Speak for yourself, Hiyoshi," he echoes wickedly.

"I've had enough of your childishness, I'm going," Hiyoshi rolls his eyes, making a move to stand up. Kirihara pulls him back down by the shirt, earning himself a fierce glare. "_What_ do you think you're doing?"

"Do you _honestly_ want to bother with setting up the matches and other boring stuff when you can just stay here and watch everything unfold like a good captain?" Kirihara inquires, his voice lilting. "Indulges me. You're in my turf so you can't say no."

Hiyoshi purses his lips.

"Leave everything to Masato and Ohtori. They're responsible enough."

"Ohtori is not the captain of my team," he replies briskly.

Kirihara eyes him coolly. "I suppose this is the part where you tell me that he isn't your vice captain, either? Or even the goddamn treasurer?"

"I don't need either," Hiyoshi informs him briskly. "Hyoutei only has a place for one person at the top."

"Is that you talking, or is your inner 'Atobe' taking over?" Kirihara jokes, though his face is entirely serious. "You know, you're not the same as him—"

"I should hope not," Hiyoshi interjects.

"—but it seems to me like you're walking down the exact same path as he was," Kirihara continues on firmly, as though he never heard Hiyoshi's sour remark. "Not that I mind — I'd _pay _to be on the front row when you finally do your own version of his 'Hyoutei' chant — but I thought you wanted to take over his position, not let him run over you."

Hiyoshi starts. "Don't talk as if you know what I'm talking about," he says cuttingly.

"Moron," Kirihara objects. "I do know what you're talking about. Unless you've forgotten, I'm Rikkai's captain, but the one before me was Yukimura-buchou."

Hiyoshi sidetracks him. "You still call him 'buchou'?"

"Can _you _call Atobe anything else?" Kirihara fires back.

"'Stupid', or 'idiot'," Hiyoshi replies scathingly, not letting the truth in Kirihara's words get to him. "'Flashy idiot' when I feeling like making fun of him. 'Asshole' when he pisses me off, though that's usually Shishido's line."

"Those don't count."

"You weren't very specific, then."

"Who's childish now?" Kirihara taunts him back, relentless. He can see the vein threatening to pop on Hiyoshi's forehead, and he smirks triumphantly, almost glowing in his gloating. "But seriously, tell me the truth — are you sure you're fine with being just by yourself? That's a heck of a lot of responsibility."

_I don't think you can handle it_, Hiyoshi hears, the implications clear as crystal.

"Atobe did it," Hiyoshi presses on further, digging deeper into his own wounds.

"I'm pretty fucking sure _you're _not Atobe, Hiyoshi."

• • •

"Kirihara has been in somewhat of an odd mood since lunch," Masato informs Ohtori quietly as they sort out their team's respective pairs, out of everyone else's earshot. His eyes flit to the two captains — one glaring in silence, and the other mouthing something with fire in his eyes — before resting on Ohtori's warm countenance. "So I wonder if it's all right leaving those two alone."

"I'm sure they'll be fine, Kobayashi-san," he replies amiably, looking up from his notes to give the other person a pleasant smile. "They're friends, after all."

"Are they?" Masato asks offhandedly. "Akaya-kun hasn't mentioned anything about that."

"I don't think they want to admit that themselves," Ohtori says bluntly, "especially since they're rivals. They've been roommates and friends since the U-17 camp, though. Hiyoshi often mentions that Kirihara-san is impossible to deal with, but I do think that they genuinely treasure each other as friends."

"True," Masato murmurs. "Kirihara isn't the kind to say anything about his feelings, anyway."

"The same goes for Hiyoshi," Ohtori admits, laughing.

Masato eyes him with shared sympathy. "You must be hard for you, and your team, with a guy like that as the captain."

Ohtori mouth is open, ready to reply with something suitably nice about his friend-slash-captain because Masato knows that he's just _that _kind of person, the kind that has so many nice things to say about everyone, but he closes it again, his face both thoughtful and impossibly calm. Masato notes, however, as he peers at him discreetly, that his eyes are flashing, like thunder and lightning cracking a raging storm.

Ohtori smiles after a few beats of silence. "I think you have misunderstood something, Kobayashi-san. I'm not an officer in this team."

Masato is unsurprised, though his eyebrows do rise nominally. He's mentioned something about his thoughts over Hyoutei's tennis hierarchy to Kirihara at one point, or the lack of it thereof, to which the latter only smirked at him and told him not to expect such things to happen according to plan. Hiyoshi is proud, he does mention, much prouder than Atobe will ever be. And also a little sulkier.

He likes to think that he understands those words, but Kirihara has merely shaken his head and tells him to just stop analyzing them. Ride with the tide and just watch from the sidelines. He remembers frowning and scowling, and demanding to know what Kirihara knows, but the guy won't budge.

"I see," he replies slowly. "I thought—"

"It's a common misconception, but the truth is Hiyoshi doesn't have a vice-captain," Ohtori interjects gently, knowingly. Again, with that smile that seems to unnerve other people with its surprising genuineness. "He doesn't need one. I only do this to help him as his friend."

Masato refrains from asking the real question ("_Need or want?_").

"You're a very nice person, Ohtori-san," he says respectfully instead.

Ohtori's smile widens by a fraction.

• • •

"They're good," Hiyoshi murmurs, and the corners of Kirihara's lips quirk upward. The Kaede-Uoya pair is just as good as he dreamed, and might even be better once they've started to practice together more. He can't wait to rub this on Masato's face later. "They're still mediocre, however. They will be easily defeated in the district tournaments if they can't improve their coordination. Funny, because I was looking forward to beating you."

"Don't bite off more than you can chew, Hiyoshi," Kirihara warns him, with no real venom. "Your team looks like they only want to see each other's dead corpse on the floor instead of the ball. I don't know why you insist on pairing them up."

True enough, the Hyoutei's current doubles pair playing a practice match against Kirihara's own pair is yelling at each other, blaming the other for letting the ball pass between them, amongst other things. At the same time, their accidental, verbal whiplashes at their opponents have also left a rather bad impression on Rikkai's pair. The animosity is spreading an uncomfortable air in the Rikkai tennis courts, and the rest of their team members are anxious to make the game finish faster, because they can't have that kind of negative rivalry before tennis season has even begun.

Sitting in the middle of the bleachers, both Kirihara and Hiyoshi have a good view of what's to come. Both have wordlessly agreed that they will only interfere if worse comes to worst. So far, so good, though — all things considered, things like this are what they consider perfectly _normal_.

"It's nothing that they won't get over with soon," Hiyoshi replies dismissively, as if this is something he's already used to seeing. "They may dislike each other, but they share one common goal. Once they realize it, once they learn how to utilize it, they will become an unstoppable pair. You'll see."

"Heh," Kirihara smirks, thinking of Hiyoshi's famous catchphrase.

It seems that he's hit right on the mark. "Someone like you won't understand the meaning of the word."

"Not at all, because I've always been at the top." Kirihara sticks his tongue out as an act of maturity.

The frown on Hiyoshi's face deepens. "Except when you're not."

Kirihara burst out laughing, the loud sound echoing on the courts. "That was the worst comeback I've ever heard," he says, biting down his snickers after turning a few heads. It isn't working as well as he thinks it is. He can feel a few glares poking holes through his head, too. "Where have you been all my life, Hiyoshi?"

"It wasn't funny," Hiyoshi deadpans.

Still laughing, Kirihara fails to form a proper response.

"_Idiot_," Hiyoshi grumbles, a hand covering half of his face. "Stop _laughing_. Everyone's looking at you."

"_Let them_," Kirihara chuckles behind his knuckles. "You really need to get out more one of these days, Hiyoshi. You could use a little improvement in the comedy department. Thanks for the lame response, though."

"No thanks," he replies caustically.

"I'll even be a wonderful mentor to you," Kirihara says, thumping his back hard, like they're _friends_ and they should do this _all the time_. What an idiot. Hiyoshi glares. Kirihara grins back at him, undeterred. In fact, much to Hiyoshi's chagrin, he seems to be all the more encouraged by his less than enthusiastic responses. "I'll take you on as a personal challenge."

The vein on Hiyoshi's forehead pops.

"Shut up."

"I don't want to."

Hiyoshi stands up abruptly, and yells to his team, "Shimizu, Harada, sit down." The doubles pair stops, turning to their captain with looks of indignation and foolish whimpering, but Hiyoshi is a man with an iron fist. He ignores them, and they slump out of the courts, grumbling under their breaths. He turns again to look at Kirihara in the eye. "Ohtori, you're playing with me."

The grin on Kirihara's face widens ever so slowly, just as silence spreads over the court like wildfire.

"Masato," he calls, though his sharp eyes never leave Hiyoshi's face, "get your ass on the court."

He does love a good challenge.

• • •

Much to everyone's disappointment, they end their match at 6-6. The two captains have decided, against their own wishes (and _merely_ suggested by Sakaki-sensei, of course, when he noticed the time), that yes, it's getting very late, and Hyoutei still needs to go back their home. The safety of their teammates is more prevalent in their mindset as captains than gaining their personal victory.

(For _now_, anyway.)

Kirihara still thinks they should have finished the match, but he has incredibly short temper when it comes to these things, anyway.

"We will settle this," Hiyoshi says as the rest of the team climbs inside the school bus, his face only showing an inch of his dissatisfaction. He's far more rigid than he seems to be, but there's no tension in him. In fact, Hiyoshi seems far more content than he has been earlier that day, and Kirihara can't deny that he feels the same.

"In doubles?" Kirihara grins.

"I wouldn't put it past you," the point-blank reply comes.

"Maybe," Kirihara shrugs, but the fire of the challenge is still very much alive. Kicking and screaming.

"Don't push your luck," Hiyoshi replies stiffly, knowing exactly what's on Kirihara's mind. He bows formally, a show of habit more than anything, but there is great care in the way his back is bent, just slightly off the perfect angle. In fact, if Kirihara has focused hard enough (which he won't), he might notice that it's even deeper. "Thank you for letting us practice with your team. We will look forward to the next time we have a match."

Kirihara's bow is much shallower, because he's not a very traditional boy to begin with, but his smile is still placed on his face. "I'll look forward to that day, then." He turns around then, waving a careless hand. "Hop on the bus and get out of here, Hiyoshi. I'll see you around."

• • •

"Rikkai is still very strong this year," Ohtori says idly as Hiyoshi sits beside him, taking the window seat. They're two rows from the driver's seat, and very much out of the earshot of the rest of their teammates who all prefer sitting at the back. "Did you have fun playing against him?"

Hiyoshi turns to him, noting his amiable smile. Only Ohtori would ask something like that, he thinks.

_"Hyoutei only needs one person at the top."_

_"Is that you talking, or is your inner 'Atobe' taking over?"_

"It was… educational," he mutters quietly.

"Oh?"

"Mm," he hums, turning his head to the window (he misses the smile etched on Ohtori's face, though that might be for the best). At sunset, the sky is splashed with purple, pink, orange, and red, stretching across the cloudless sky, adjacent to the orange and yellow hue scattered across the horizon. Hiyoshi isn't the type to wax poetic anything, but perhaps it's rather catching.

"That's good," Ohtori replies, with sincerity that only he can muster oozing out of his words, dragging the syllables to make them heard, and he doesn't bother Hiyoshi for the rest of the ride.

• • •

"Hey, Masato."

"Hm?" Masato drags his eyes away from his locker, looking up at Kirihara, who seems lost in thought as he returns to the locker room from the parking lot, where he has sent Hyoutei away. "What is it?"

Kirihara sits down beside him, sitting down and reaching for his own lock. "Tell Sagara he still has thirty laps to do."

"Practice is over," he replies serenely, but he's standing up anyway, and there's a small, vindictive smile on his face.

"Not for that idiot, it isn't."

**—****—**

******A recap of the team members: **

Rikkai team - Kirihara Akaya (captain), Kobayashi Masato (vice-captain), Torii Kaede, Ezakiya, Takaishi, Honda, Urayama, Uoya

Hyoutei team - Hiyoshi Wakashi (captain), Ohtori Choutarou, Kabaji Munehiro, Shimizu, Harada, and three more unnamed ones.

Shitenhouji team - Zaizen Hikaru (captain), Masamoto (vice-captain), Tooyama Kintarou, and the rest are unnamed.

If I can be assed to expand on the personalities of the most minor of minor characters, perhaps I will as I unfold the story. For now, just keep in mind that the most important OCs are most likely Masato, Kaede, and Ezakiya (I do mention him a lot, don't I? But for good reason, yes) from Rikkai, and Masamoto from Shitenhouji, though the latter two won't be making cameos until much later.


	7. The Element of Surprises

**Title: **The Element of Surprises.  
><strong>Characters: <strong>Kirihara, Niou, Marui, Yanagi, Yukimura, OCs.  
><strong>Notes: <strong>If anyone's wondering, there won't be much tennis action until we get nearer the Prefectural Tournament (for Seigaku, Hyoutei, and Fudomine, specifically) and the Kantou tournament (of course!) where the real fight begins. Perhaps some unofficial ones - street courts, friendly games, and all that jazz - will come into play, but only when I get the muse for them. I originally wrote this story without the thought of putting tennis into play - I only wanted to write about the characters and their personalities and dynamics with each other off the court and whatnot, but this story grew to a bigger project than I expected.

Nonetheless, this chapter marks the beginning of the real plot of the story, which, as stated in the summary, is how our main characters deal with the trials of being new captains, with new teams, and a new legacy to build all on their own, with _and _without the support of those who went before them. This is where I can show you guys the type of leaders I think our main characters are going to be like and I'm really, really excited for it.

Now, off-topic — Since I've been focusing on only a handful of schools, I want to know which schools — or which characters — you guys want to see in the story in the future. I won't necessarily put all of them, because sadly my muse can only handle so much, but I will most certainly try.

**—****—**

"The district preliminaries start a week from now," Masato says lightly, his eyes glancing at Kirihara's hunched form over the table setting up their line-up for the competition, and the classroom window of their usual spot. The tennis club is going about its business as usual while the captain and vice-captain brainstorm for the upcoming tournament (or, in any case, Masato likes to think that they are collaborating ideas while Kirihara merely wills for him to go away and leave him in peace, since he is undoubtedly doing anything _but_ helping him), under Kaede's stern watch.

Because for all his lackadaisical outlook on life, Torii Kaede is a fearsome person, whose compassion and ability to lead might have cost Kirihara his captaincy if Yukimura didn't deem him to be the better choice, but these are things that are never mentioned, and only looked up with thoughtfulness, and neither has ever bothered to ask the other about what might have _been_.

For his part, Kirihara might have followed Kaede without question, if he didn't badly want the position himself. It's something that Masato often points out when they talk about the other guy in private, because it's practically an acquired habit to push Kirihara's buttons now.

_You wouldn't have a single complaint about the way he would run things_, he would say, in such a matter-of-fact tone_, because Kaede will make sure you of all people are satisfied with what you expect out of him. He thinks very highly of you_.

"Great," Kirihara says, albeit distractedly, with his nose so close to the desk. "More dummies to practice with before the Nationals."

"Try not to degrade the other schools too much," Masato replies, amused. He pulls the nearest desk to him and sits on it, with one of his feet propped up to rest on the window sill. "Who knows if they've found themselves a super rookie and outsmarts you?"

Just for that, Kirihara rolls his eyes. "If they have one, we would know it."

He has no doubt that any interesting news from the other schools would have reached Rikkai's gossip circle in a matter of seconds, for they are unappealingly notorious. But they have their uses, and Kirihara has the fortune (or misfortune, depending on how you look at it, and the kind of mood he's in) of being friends and classmates with quite a number of them. If anything, Kirihara is thankful that they are loyal to their school, and that they haven't yet blurted out Rikkai's secrets even though they are out in the open for the whole world to just _find_.

Masato simply smiles. "Perhaps."

"You know what, fuck this, Urayama and Takaishi will play Doubles 2," Kirihara declares, after a few moments of silence, dropping his pen from his hands and crumpling the paper he's been writing on into a ball before throwing it in the trash can across the classroom. He misses. "You and Kaede will play Doubles 1."

"I knew you would do that," Masato comments mildly.

"I figured there's still room for improvement, however small," he says. Masato laughs loudly, irritatingly, but Kirihara ignores him. "Uoya for Singles 3," he continues further, listing names off the top of his head. "Honda for Singles 2. Ezakiya in Singles 1."

His vice-captain raises an eyebrow. "You won't play?"

"If I find that one of our opponents has a super rookie, I'll change the line-up," he replies drily, leaning back on his seat and resting his hands behind his head.

"But you won't, since they won't have any, and none of those schools will be able to hold a candle to Rikkai's strength, anyway, regardless of their line-up," says Masato matter-of-factly, and proudly, and Kirihara silently agrees. It's in one of these small moments where he sees the true extent of Masato's loyalty, he thinks, and it makes him believe that he didn't make a mistake in choosing him as vice-captain. "Uoya, Honda, and Ezakiya are doubles players."

"And your doubles combination with Kaede sucks," he retorts, but without the usual amount of venom. "But no one knows that yet."

"No, no one," says Masato thoughtfully. "Ezakiya and Takaishi were the only ones to compete in last year's newcomer's tournament. Ezakiya won." He doesn't mention the tough round he has had with Fudomine's new recruit during the semi-finals, and his almost loss had he not been able to see the opponent's weaknesses, because he knows exactly what Kirihara thinks of that. "And _you_ alone have been handpicked for the newcomer's tournament in our year."

Kirihara appraises him. "You pay attention. I'm impressed."

And in any case, the former members of the team have always overshadowed the rest of them, barring Kirihara himself, when it comes to talent and performance. They both have noticed the considerable lack of scouts and spies searching the Rikkai grounds after their disappearance, but that is something to be thankful for, Kirihara know; not a single one of them will ever know what will hit them soon.

"I should be saying that to _you_." Masato shares a brief, toothy smile with Kirihara. "Saving our _real_ strength for the Nationals, are you?"

"We'll see."

Masato hums in agreement. "So we will."

• • •

"How do you feel?"

Kirihara scowls at the question. He distinctly remembers that he's in Marui's house to relax and have a great time playing video games all night instead of doing his homework and worrying about tennis — _not_ be probed about his _feelings _or whatever, and especially not by his happy-go-lucky senior, and especially not at this hour of the night, when no one else is awake but them.

What is the world coming to now?

"Why do you ask?" he asks wearily.

Marui raises a brow sharply. "Do I need a reason?"

"I wouldn't put it past you to have one."

Marui elbows him. "Don't be a brat."

"Ow!" He rubs his side, glaring. "That hurts!"

"You deserve it!"

"Have you ever thought that maybe he's actually worried?" says Niou idly, striding in the room quietly, carrying a bundle of snacks for them to munch on and drops then Marui's bed. He pays no heed at their childish antics, and drops himself on Marui's bed, sprawling his legs languidly on the soft mattress. Kirihara makes a face — and so does Marui, which Niou returns with a baleful look. "Don't look at me like that. You know you are."

"You can't prove it," Marui accuses him, and Niou merely pops a candy in his mouth, grinning triumphantly.

"It's not my first tournament," Kirihara drawls, rolling his eyes.

"It's your first one as captain," Marui points out.

He rolls his eyes. "I'll live."

He's not about to say that he's both excited and scared as fuck, that this is something he has always wished for, and now he gets to live out his dreams — or something to that effect, anyway. He's not really into waxing poetic.

"Well, you're handling it better than Yukimura did during his first months as captain, I'll give you that," says Niou lazily, making Marui snort with laughter. Kirihara turns to them, confused (and not without that slight pang of guilt at the mention of his former captain — an issue that he will have to address sooner or later, though preferably later, considering). "Yukimura was a wreck at the start. He looked like he didn't know what he was doing at all and was only going through the motions. Yanagi was already handling the Regular's regimen during our first-year because Yukimura didn't have the attention span for it, especially when we got closer to the Nationals."

"The guy was hopeless," says Marui, shaking his head slightly. "If you were there, you'd have known then and there that he lived and breathed tennis."

That is something Kirihara — as well as the rest of the world — already knows.

"I thought it was because Yanagi-sempai was better at handling stuff like that," Kirihara admits, somewhat ruefully.

"Well, that is true," Niou agrees, "but it wasn't the main reason."

"Just don't ask Sanada's opinion on it," Marui chimes in.

Kirihara's lips curl, remembering something vague that has been mentioned to him before. "Because they don't get along?"

"They get along _well _enough. They're the best of friends; there's no mistaking that. But they're too different, and that makes for a rocky relationship." Kirihara raises an eyebrow at him pointedly, to which Niou laughs. "Yagyuu and I found a common ground, aside from tennis, but it doesn't make things easier. It's not all sunshine and rainbows, kid. I bet the deal's the same with those two. They've found a few common grounds, and I guess that makes all the difference."

"Yukimura-buchou," Kirihara voices out, and Niou hums in agreement, pleased at Kirihara's correct assessment. "And tennis."

"And the team," Marui supplies, before blowing his bubblegum.

"And the team," Niou echoes.

Kirihara gives out a long sigh before pressing 'resume' on his controller.

"I feel fine," he says. "All I know is that I'm going to win." He pauses for a moment, and then corrects himself, his voice level. "My _team_ is going to win."

Niou gives him a shrewd look, while Marui's eyes are set on the game, but neither says a thing, and Kirihara knows from experience that that's a good sign.

• • •

"_It's a very smart strategy_," Yanagi comments placidly, as Kirihara looks up at his plain, white ceiling blankly. One hand is resting behind his head while the other is holding his phone to his ear. If Yanagi thinks that Kirihara is crazy to be calling him at one o'clock in the morning if only to consult him regarding tennis matters, then he keeps it to himself as he indulges his junior. He's probably used to it, considering the king of person Yukimura is. And Sanada, too, if Kirihara can count him, though he's more of the impression that Sanada tends to suppress his moments of panic to himself instead of blurting everything out to the person closest to him. "_You will find that some teams do this strategy often, but only a few can pull it off expertly_."

"We'll manage," he replies. "My player's are all well-rounded, I think. They just need practice."

"_Practice makes perfect_," Yanagi preaches quietly.

Kirihara grins slightly. "Exactly."

"_If your team plays excellently throughout the whole tournament, then everyone will be in for a surprise_," Yanagi predicts, and Kirihara is thankful. "_They will not expect that Rikkai still has some things under their sleeves. Most people assume that our winning streak as already disappeared after our last fight against Seigaku._"

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too," he replies readily. "I want to prove them all wrong."

"_So you will_," Yanagi says solemnly. "_Be careful, however. People may surprise you unexpectedly. The people you know most of all, specifically_."

Kirihara represses a sigh. "Is that a good or a bad thing?"

"_That would depend_," Yanagi replies softly, "_on the surprise, and the person involved. It may not always be who you assume it could be._"

That, Kirihara thinks, is something that the entirety of Rikkai knows very, _very_ well. He ponders at the thought for quite a while — and Yanagi lets him, of course; Kirihara hears the scratching of pen on paper from Yanagi's end — before he replies confidently, "I think we'll do just fine, sempai."

Though he can't see him, he can hear Yanagi's smile from the other side of the connection. "_I can believe it, yes_."

• • •

It turns out that they're more than just fine.

The new team has proven themselves to be of champion material, pouncing on all of their opponents and beating them to the ground (as is expected of Rikkai, of course). As invaluable as his strategy have been, his trust in them have solidified the fact that Kirihara Akaya, the ace of last year's Nationals runner-up team and Yukimura Seiichi's protégé, has no doubts regarding his team's strength over the other schools'. He has trusted them to do well without his help, just as Yukimura and Tezuka have trusted their own during their months of therapy and rehabilitation the past season, and Kirihara feels oddly accomplished upon realizing this.

He feels more than just pride.

When they arrived earlier that day, there have been tension in the air, and many have sought to challenge Rikkai's current team in order to gauge their abilities and, most importantly, their tempers. While Uoya has been the most explosive (being as hot-headed as he is, Kirihara isn't at all surprised) and has already made his fair share of enemies on and off the court, he has been forewarned enough by Masato that off-court fistfights and in-game "accidents" have been avoided, and Kirihara smiles to himself as his teammate takes his revenge on the court. He sits back and lets his player run loose during their games.

Kaede and Masato, too, have simply been lounging about before, during, and after their games, with Kaede making small, snide commentaries here and there to get a rise out of their opponents (which is, very unfortunately, though Kaede thinks otherwise, quite often), and Masato simply rolls his eyes occasionally. The rest of the team have slowly picked up on their listless energy and began seeing the district preliminaries as another extension of their practice, much to their opponents' chagrin.

The only one at odds (sort of, anyway) is Ezakiya.

"He's been placed in Singles 1, and that position is usually only covered by the most important players in that team, usually the captain or his vice, or their ace," says Masato pointedly, side-glancing at his captain as they watch the quarter-finals game of their Doubles 2 team. Rikkai is leading with a 4-0 score, and the other team has not even scored a single point. "Of course he would feel the pressure, seeing as he is neither the former two."

It's as Masato said. Expectations have been up high even before Ezakiya has stepped inside the court. Everyone has naturally (even his own team) assumed that Kirihara would take up the Singles 1 position, and have been surprised and intrigued and completely bewildered to find a scrawny second-year but his head half-ducked walking toward the net. Some might know him as the boy who won the newcomer's tournament, but only a few remember his face, let alone his name. He isn't a particularly interesting subject, as far as giants in the Rikkai go.

To his credit, of course, the second-year has yet to disappoint.

"And don't say he's your ace player," Kaede pipes in quietly. "We all know where you want him to be."

Yes, it's no secret to most of the team (and the school, for that matter) that Kirihara has been gearing him up to be one of four permanent doubles players in the team, rotating the regulars around in order to find him a good match. Ezakiya is mild-mannered and polite to a tee, reminding Kirihara a bit of Hyoutei's Ohtori, but there's explosiveness in his movements that shines whenever he plays, reminiscent of Kirihara's own flagrant style than anyone else's, and that in itself is what keeps Kirihara's eyes open and keen.

It is the soft core of his personality, however, that is the key to his game play as much as his strength and Kirihara has recognized it the moment he set his eyes on him. That Ezakiya connects more with feelings than logic makes him an excellent partner against someone who can be a bit more passionate on court, and he can learn more about his opponents based on how they play well together, and use their own dynamics against them. Sort of like Niou, though not _really_. Niou is more often than not an entertainer, flashy and often goes for the big bonus rounds. Ezakiya is simple-minded, in the sense that he only wants to win using the ways he knows how.

Yet, more importantly (to him), there is a bit of Shiraishi (when it comes to persistence) and Yanagi (when it comes to patience) in him that Kirihara finds refreshing and familiar, because there aren't as many level-headed players in the game like those two seniors, and though he has never dared express it, it's a reminder of the two most important people who have had quite a bit of a hand in Kirihara's growth as a player and a person.

"He's not my ace player," he answers, though there's no firmness in that statement. It's too early in the season to say something with absolute certainty, and like what Yanagi said, people might be able to surprise him down the road. "But I can't put him in doubles right now. He's too good, and they'll notice it fast. We need to keep their eyes away from our doubles teams."

He needs them all to think that Doubles is his team's weakest link, that if they tried, it can be so _easy _to drive a wedge in their winning streak and throw their pride right back at their face. Kirihara wants them all to take that bait, and have the opposite be done to them. It'll far easier in the long run.

Of course, he's not about to be stupid. He knows that come the Prefectural tournament, come the_ Kantou Regionals_, where all the _real _players of the game are headed, they'll be baring all of his tricks for the world to see.

He looks forward to that.

Masato snorts. "They're already noticing him."

"All well and good," he replies idly. "He's an excellent singles player, and with practice, he can improve immensely, but his strength is what everyone will be looking for to find weaknesses in. I want them to look at him and see him as he is now."

"Nothing wrong with giving them a little sample to play with," Kaede suggests, with the barest hint of glee in his voice. "Show them a bit of what he's got, and make sure he loosens up a bit in the meantime. He's a bit stiff when playing on his own, but with a partner he'll manage to cool himself down some."

It's just like Kaede to notice those thinks, of course.

"Are you volunteering?" Kirihara turns to him with a quirk of his lips.

Kaede returns it with a challenging raise of his eyebrow. "Only if you actually do it."

Kirihara thinks on it for a moment. He turns to Masato.

"It's not a bad idea," he answers the unasked question casually, but Kirihara knows him better. There's a suggestion there hidden behind the glint in his eyes. It's become an old argument between them, regarding Kaede and Ezakiya and their potential as partners, and it's time to settle the score. "You could also take up Singles 1 in the semi-finals to stretch your limbs, too. I don't mind being the reserve."

"Doubles 2, Rikkai wins, 6-0!"

Kirihara glances at the scoreboard with minimal interest, but he does nod at his teammates for a job well done. He doesn't need to know what the stats have been, for the results have been the same as before: their opponents have not gotten any opportunity to get a ball past their defence. Urayama, despite his childish appearance and personality, has proven that he is more than capable in laying out the opponent's weaknesses in order for Takaishi to counterattack. Still, there's something about Urayama's game that completely unnerves Kirihara, in a way that makes him unsuitable for anything but singles in the long run, and he has to find that out for himself soon.

Nevertheless, Urayama and Takaishi are absolutely _preening_ at his acknowledgement, however mild, much to his amusement. At any rate, having their spirits raised is a bonus for him.

He scoffs quietly and turns to Kaede. "I guess, It's on your head."

Kaede grins and picks up his racket as he stands up, bouncing on his feet as though Christmas has suddenly arrived on his doorstep, without a care in the world. "Great!"

• • •

The semi-finals game is against Tachikawa Junior High School, the third seed of their district, and inevitably reminds him of Makinofuji Gakuin and their strong, tough guys with lots of brawn to share but very little brain to use. Kirihara acknowledges them as one of the more powerful schools in their prefecture (in as much as he _should_, as the captain of his team, because to be honest, he personally doesn't actually _care_, because he already knows what the outcome of this game is going to be), but they have yet to defeat Rikkai during the district and prefectural tournaments for the last twenty-seven years, and Kirihara's not about to break their winning streak.

This is one of those long-standing feuds that just ends up boring you to death, and he, a player, is sick and tired of the comparisons made between them before the matches have been started. Tachikawa doesn't hold a candle to Rikkai, enough said.

He glances at his teammates' faces as he lists them the new line-up (Uoya and Honda, for Doubles 2; Kaede and Ezakiya for Doubles 1; Takaishi for Singles 3; Urayama for Singles 2; and himself, for Singles 1), and his lips twitch at their mystified expressions. They've expected very little (or none at all) to be changed, but the sudden rotation gets them thinking that perhaps this game is going to be much more serious than they first assumed.

Perhaps, it is. Kirihara dislikes Tachikawa's proud captain enough to actually want to pummel him to the ground (he rest of the world obviously knows that, too), and Kaede and Masato have provided him ample opportunity to do just that.

"Finally debuting as a doubles player, eh?" Kaede nudges at Ezakiya, who is oddly quiet, wringing his racket between his fingers. Kirihara eyes glances at Masato, who smirks back, before setting his eyes on the pair again. "You got me, of course, so don't worry your head off too much. We'll knock them down a peg or two."

Ezakiya manages a small smile, though his face is downcast. "I'll keep it in mind, sempai."

It figures, Kirihara thinks, that he's much more afraid of failing in doubles than in singles. It is, after all, where his captain wants him best. The next match will provide much amusement for Kirihara, if all else fails.

"Placing your strongest doubles teams together already?" Masato murmurs quietly, moving behind the coach's bench where Kirihara is sitting, but Kirihara hears the laughter in his otherwise placid voice. "I thought we needed to keep them on the down low."

"Together, but not with each other," he replies just as quietly, eyes rolling heavenward to meet Masato's expression. "I'm still not changing my mind, you know."

Masato smiles. Kirihara is reminded of a cat lounging about under the summer heat. "We'll see."

• • •

Tachikawa loses to a 4-0 streak (6-0, Doubles 2; 6-1, Doubles 1; 6-0, Singles 3; and 6-0, Singles 2) that sets the pace for the final match of the semi-finals. Their captain, whose name Kirihara doesn't have the patience to know, is livid, his face beat red and his eyes set on revenge, but Kirihara recognizes the trembling fear deep within his very skin as they both step in the middle of the court and face each other. When they shake hands, Kirihara feels his opponent's hands shaking, cold and sweaty. It's the feeling every player gets when Yukimura Seiichi once stepped inside the court, and Kirihara is inevitably reminded that he is more than just Kirihara Akaya, Rikkaidai's strongest ace.

He is its captain now.

"So you've come out of your hiding place, eh, Kirihara?"

"If you give me a good warm-up, I might give you a front-row seat pass during the finals," he replies indifferently, resisting the urge to roll his eyes so openly. If there's anything that he's learned from his seniors, it's that an ounce of professionalism, no matter how small, goes a long way. Especially considering just _who_ he is.

Still, he simply can't help but be _snarky_.

"That twerp of yours," the guy says, his sneer encompassing the entirely of his face in a way that doesn't suit him, "the one partnering up with your friend. You didn't put him in Singles 1 this time. Afraid he could have lost?"

The taunt warrants little of Kirihara's attention, much less the lashing of his short fuse, but he knows how it's started. A 6-1 is a good run if the opponent is strong enough to contend; but Tachikawa and Rikkaidai are vastly different, and the latter is stronger and much more accomplished and definitely in a higher pedestal, and a loss of one game is a taint to their name.

Champions, contenders, runner-ups, a nationally ranked team with a nationally ranked captain – but with a flaw, or two, or more, and maybe they'll break if they're pried open, yes? Already he can feel the rumours going around that perhaps this Rikkaidai team has a defect that will show itself in time, and it can be used against them if the cards are played rightly, the way that Seigaku did when they defeated them — _twice — _last year.

Ezakiya and Kaede have played as well as Kirihara has expected them to. Their partnership has steadily gained its footing during the course of the game, and after their one loss due to (and there's no denying it, really) Ezakiya's anxiety, the mood of their game has changed since then. Kaede, with his experience in doubles since his elementary school days, has expertly guided his junior throughout the whole ordeal with unbending patience, and Ezakiya has followed him faithfully, learning with his eyes and ears open.

In all actuality, he cares little for the one game loss given to their opponent, because he knows better. His teammates have done exactly what he wants them to do, and that is simply to win. He simply won't stand for the rumour-mongers that will dare paint Rikkai as a lesser team than it really is.

"Not at all," he drawls, confident. "He won this game, after all." A short reply, but it gets the point across.

"For a newcomer, he's good," says the guy frostily, as he lets go of Kirihara's hand, "but if he keeps that up, he won't stand a chance. You know better — he's going to be eaten alive during the Prefecturals. Who knows if he might drag the whole team with him? Rikkaidai hasn't had much of good run lately, has it?"

The mention of Rikkaidai's past failures gnaws at him, and it's an unwelcoming feeling to be reminded of the expectations on his shoulders and the burdens of the past team's mistakes and unplanned disasters. He's been there last year, from start to finish. The feelings are still fresh, strong, and sometimes painful.

The want – and _need_ – to change the course of history gives him strength to fight back.

He's learned to accept that it will always inevitably be thrown at his face by the more amoral players who still think that provoking him is going to give them the upper hand, but it doesn't mean he has to simply _take _it, does it?

Kirihara sneers back, his eyes steely.

"If anyone in this place is having a bad run," he says, glancing at the scoreboard with half-contempt and half-amusement, "it definitely isn't us. And don't worry," he smiles, deadly, with a flash of teeth, _fangs_, and sheer will, "I'll make sure to prove it to you."

And he does so, with a flourishing 6-0 run.

• • •

"Satisfied?"

Masato glances at him, amused. "Well, I suppose, but I see that you have other ideas."

Kirihara dumps his empty water bottle in his bag and zips it close before leaning back against the bench, eyeing the entire tennis court with an appreciative eye. The tournament has ended some time ago, and they simply are waiting for their bus to arrive. Kaede has volunteered to grab snacks for the team while they wait, dragging a complacent Ezakiya and a scowling Uoya with him. The rest of them have scattered around the area, draining the last of their adrenaline rush that the games have provided before it's time for to go back home.

"Next time," he promises, "I'll prove my point."

"I'm sure you will," Masato says. "But you have to admit that I am right."

"You are right," he echoes lazily. "They do well together as partners."

"But?"

"Eventually, Ezakiya will need someone he can depend on without feeling that he's becoming a burden," he says. "Kaede is a good mentor for him, but he will be holding himself back if he only focuses on Ezakiya's growth." This he knows, of course, from experience, and the value of Yanagi's sacrifice during the final, precious moments of their time together as doubles partners and teammates is never lost on him. "And you know him; behind that attitude of his, Kaede's the guy that cares the most about this team, and more so than the both of us."

"I know Kaede," Masato concedes, though barely, "but I don't know Ezakiya. I don't know if what you say is true, and I don't know what makes you say it."

Kirihara smirks. "Then, we'll just have to see, I guess."

"Always the element of surprises," Masato laughs. "Fine, but don't keep me waiting for too long."

• • •

"We won," he informs. His phone is in his ear, as he sprawls all over the mattress like a lazy cat. It's the middle of the night, and he's just arrived about five minutes ago. He hasn't even taken off his socks yet. The household is quiet save for his own voice, and his sister's booming radio from the other side of the house.

"_So I heard_," Yukimura replies serenely, his voice sounding amused, unsurprised, and proud all at once. It seems that Rikkai's gossip circle has done its job, as always, and Kirihara just might let them off on this one, if all goes well. Considering Yukimura's attitude, he's hoping that it will. "_Congratulations_."

"Thanks," he says gratefully. He swallows thickly, and adds, "the next tournament's still in a couple of months, and we have a long way to go if we want to improve."

"_You'll have all the time_," says Yukimura helpfully. "_The wait is always the longest part, but it will help your team to be able to hone their skills before they're thrown in the battlefield again._"

"Yeah," he says, a bit meekly, yet more so than he likes. He pauses for the briefest of moments, hesitating and wondering, but he goes for the kill. "I was hoping maybe you could help me. Masato and I have been brainstorming but I thought —"

His sentence ends abruptly, awkwardly, but Yukimura picks up the slack. "_Of course, Akaya, I'd be happy to_," he accepts, his voice warm and delighted, and Kirihara knows, _knows_, that he is forgiven, and the past is the past. "_I'm always here if you need my help_."

_I know_, Kirihara thinks. "Yeah, thanks."

**—****—**

**Last Edited: **03-Mar-2012


	8. Bugger, Part 1

**Title:** Bugger (Part 1)  
><strong>Characters: <strong>Zaizen, Kenya, Kirihara, Kintarou, OCs  
><strong>Notes:<strong> As requested by _NighttimeFirefly_, Kintarou makes his appearance in my fic as a supporting (?) character. I actually really enjoyed writing him - he's just pure crack, to be honest - but hopefully I'll get to show a more serious and thoughtful side of him, which I really do think does exist behind that happy-go-lucky personality of his.

This is part one of two (or three, depending on how things go), focusing on Zaizen's relationship with his vice captain, Masamoto Jurou, and his new team.

**—**—****

"_Well_," says Kenya, as he flips his phone shut, "you were right."

Zaizen tries not to look so smug, but he can't quite stop the soft snort that comes out of him — which, in turn, makes Kenya roll his eyes, and the senior shakes his head and focuses instead on tennis game in front of them, as does Zaizen.

Zaizen is supposed to be overseeing the Regulars' practices — as a good captain should — but Masamoto Jurou, his ever-dependable vice-captain, has taken cue when he realizes that all the captain wants to do today is hang out with his friend on one of the benches.

Not that this is anything new, really. Zaizen tends to put all the trivial responsibilities on his vice captain's shoulders while he watches the world wither away in front of his eyes slowly — or, in this case, watch club practice with the keen eyes of someone who knows his team inside and out. If he only has the motivation, he probably (most likely) can do everything else by himself, but life hasn't been that generous and he certainly can't make himself do something he doesn't want to do. Masamoto takes it all in stride and tactfully says not a single thing. He does, however, often scowl at Zaizen's direction, but the latter pays him no heed.

Osamu, for his part, is often seen wandering about the school without a clue where he's going half the time (as per usual), though he does stay around often enough to watch over practice with Zaizen, throwing random advice here and there without preamble. He neither encourages nor discourages Zaizen from doing what he wants with the team, in any case, which is perfectly fine, as far as he's concerned. He's learned by now that Zaizen has very little care for authority, and only listens to those who have gained his respect. His love for Osamu is paper-thin, but it at least keeps everything smooth between the two of them.

For his part, Zaizen is learning not to take Osamu's words at face value, and to find what Osamu sees, because they guy may be an extreme head case, alcoholic junkie, and chain smoker, but he is still the coach of the Nationally-ranked Shitenhouji tennis team, a position unmatched by any other person in their school faculty and no one dares to fight him for such a coveted position. With good reason.

Right now, he's nowhere to be found, and Zaizen isn't so inclined to send any member of his club to look for him when he knows that the old guy is going to pop up sooner or another anyway.

"Not that there was any room for doubt," Kenya continues on cheerfully, as though he didn't hear a thing. "Rikkai is the runner-up, and Seigaku's the current champion. It only makes sense. I heard it was a close one with Fudomine, though, for Seigaku."

_Figures_, Zaizen thinks, unsurprised. Fudomine has kept most of their former regulars in the team after their former captain and player-coach, Tachibana Kippei, has left for high school, while Seigaku, along with the rest of them, has had to regroup and rearrange most of their formations in order to compensate for the losses that they've had after the seniors have left. Though they still have Echizen Ryoma, it's not exactly the same without Tezuka Kunimitsu's rock solid presence or the Fuji Syuusuke's unrivalled genius.

Zaizen has encountered that same problem the first moment he walked in the courts as the tennis club's captain, because none of them will ever be as perfect as Shiraishi or as fast as Kenya, or as strong as Gin (except Kintarou, maybe), but he's thankfully found a few solid players whose skills are worth watching for. If their talents are honed to perfection, then the rest of the world is in for something they have never seen before.

"What about Hyoutei?" Zaizen asks, the thought occurring to him all of a sudden.

Kenya gives him an odd look, but answers it all the same.

"Yuushi said they're only halfway through Singles 3 right now, but it's more than likely that they'll win. I didn't think that you'd be that interested in Hyoutei's progress," he adds idly, much to Zaizen's chagrin. "Though they did play a great against Seigaku in the Nationals, Atobe especially. The new team certainly seems capable enough."

Zaizen frowns at his choice of words but bites his tongue (literally, even, in a conscious effort not to say something weird and awkward), and if Kenya notices this, he doesn't say a word about it, either. If Zaizen can be assed to compliment someone like Hiyoshi, he will probably say that the guy is not _just _'capable enough', seeing as he's watched the guy learn and grow and become more of himself since the newcomer's tournament where they first crossed paths and up to the U-17 camp that they've participated in.

Based on _that_, he can easily assume that Hyoutei's new line-up will be tougher than ever, because Hiyoshi is not the kind of person to do things halfway. Hyoutei's an even dangerous opponent than they have been before.

Nevertheless, Zaizen moves the conversation on safer ground.

"We didn't get to watch their game," he comments. As far as he remembers, they had been busy pummelling Fudomine to the ground (in more polite terms, of course), though he might be wrong. "We were busy on the other side."

"Shiraishi's got the tapes," Kenya replies matter-of-factly. "Besides, Yuushi told me what happened."

"Your cousin tends to wax poetic," Zaizen comments drily.

"Come on, Hikaru, you saw Atobe's hair when he went to watch the finals," Kenya insists, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. "Nothing dull would have come out of that game if he had to shave his precious hair. I only wish that I was there to see it myself."

Again, Zaizen can only snort, but he it doesn't mean that he disagrees.

"But, anyway," Kenya goes on, "I'm only here to congratulate you, in case you were wondering." Zaizen has been, yes, but he's not going to admit it, much less say it out loud. Kenya seems to know that and moves on without waiting for a response. "Sorry I couldn't watch your tournament. It's a shame that the junior high and high school divisions have tournaments at the same time."

"It was nothing spectacular," Zaizen replies.

However depreciating that has sounded, especially coming from him, they both know that it's true. For most of the schools in their district — and in their prefectural, even — no one can reach the bar that Shitenhouji has set.

Never mind the fact that Zaizen feels like he's been doing a lacklustre job in upholding the standards of his own predecessors. They've won their way through the district preliminaries without a hitch, and at the moment, that's what counts the most.

"I think it could have been worth the watch," Kenya shrugs. "I've heard about your team."

Zaizen glances at him. "What about them?"

"A few little birds told me that Kintarou hasn't been this excited since he last played with '_Koshimae_'," says Kenya evenly, though he can't suppress the twinkle in his eyes. Zaizen has a feeling that he won't like the answer Kenya will give him if he asks who those 'little birds' are, so he doesn't ask. "Like he's always on the edge of his seat, waiting for something exciting to happen because he knows it always does. It seems like you've formed quite an interesting team."

"That's one way to put it," he muses. Zaizen watches as two of his Regulars play a long rally against each other for a long while now, neither one back down from the other. They've gathered quite an audience around them, but they paid the rest no heed as they continue to fight for a single point. "They're tenacious, I'll give them that."

Even Masamoto, whose passive style differs from the rest of them immensely, has fire in his eyes whenever he plays, and that alone has made him interesting enough.

"I can see that," says Kenya, smiling. "Looks like it'll be an exciting year this time around."

"Maybe," says Zaizen, his lips curling.

• • •

"Perhaps it's time to change the Regulars' regimen," Masato suggests. His entire demeanour can be considered, on the whole, professional and serious, and it pings at the more rebellious side of Zaizen in all the wrong ways. "I believe we can double their exercise routines, as well as watch over their dietary habits starting now. Triple for Kintarou, even, if he can manage."

"I'm sure he can," Zaizen supplies helpfully, glancing up at Kintarou bouncing around the court with a mildly amused expression. "I suppose you've got that all figured out by now."

Masamoto frowns distinctly at Zaizen's tone, a look on his face that is almost as familiar as his presence in the club these days. "Well, of course, and if you don't mind, I'd like to give the regimen I've come up with to the others already," he says reproachfully, and Zaizen waves him off with a dismissive hand. This only seems to provoke his vice-captain further. "Though it would have been better if you have done yourself. You are the captain of the club, you know."

"You've already done it, Masamoto," Zaizen points out languidly. He wants to say that because his vice-captain is already doing a good job doing everything by himself that he sees no reason to step in — but he doesn't, because that's simply not his style. "What's the point of me stepping in?"

"I'm afraid I should point out that I am _not_ your lackey," says Masamoto, full out scowling at his captain.

Zaizen sighs, resigned. "I know you're not."

"Then—?"

"They're waiting," Zaizen nods at the rest of the team, hanging back by the nets and waiting for their captain and vice-captain to finish talking. By the looks on their faces, Zaizen knows that they're trying their best not to eavesdrop.

Masamoto shuts his mouth, and glares before stomping off to the others, his shoulders tense. Tact, Zaizen reminds himself, is something that Masamoto has and he doesn't, and according to Shiraishi, he probably needs to learn it.

• • •

"_He sounds like a real trooper_."

Zaizen coughs loudly, trying to mask a laugh, unbidden, and a few customers packed together with him inside a small record shop looks on curiously before going about their business. "You've got no idea," he murmurs through his earphone's mic. "It's a battleground there."

"_I don't think that's fair to say_," Kirihara says, "_since he's been doing a shit ton of work on your behalf. The least you could do is to thank him._"

_That's funny coming from you_, is what Zaizen wants to say, but he keeps that to himself, and settles for, "I never asked him to."

"_It's probably in the job description_," says Kirihara thoughtfully. "_Sanada-san did the same last year, for Yukimura-buchou_."

"The circumstances are different," Zaizen replies, a bit drily, his eyes and his fingers sweeping across the shelves, albeit distractedly. "And you can't compare my vice-captain to that hulk. That's just wrong. Masamoto can't hold a candle to him."

He thinks he hears the way Kirihara's lips purse through the phone. "_How do you know that Sanada-san wasn't a bad vice-captain_?"

Zaizen stops at the E-H shelf, frowning. "Was he?" He definitely never got that impression. If anything, Sanada has seemed a far more capable leader than Yukimura has been, though that may be because he looks older (and scarier) than he really seems.

There's a few beats of silence. "_He wasn't bad_."

"But he wasn't great."

"_He wanted to do right by Yukimura, but he was distracted all the same_," Kirihara provides evenly, though there's no mistaking the frown in his voice. Yukimura is loved, Zaizen idly thinks, by anyone who has come to know him well, and Kirihara himself is no exception. "_There were times when Yanagi-sempai had to step in_."

Zaizen can imagine that going down, of course. He's heard that Yukimura and Sanada have been friends since they were children, and sudden turn in Yukimura's health definitely had been a bad blow, and not just for their team.

He doesn't wonder at how they could have lost their title, but on how they've been able to rise above and beyond what anyone thought they are capable of, despite the odds. Seigaku is not nearly the only school that has grown collectively — Rikkai has had their own fair share of trials they had to overcome, and not everyone recognizes it.

"Like I said," he continues on casually, "things are different."

"_I should hope so_," Kirihara retorts wryly, though whether or not he's serious Zaizen can't say. There are a lot of question marks in Zaizen's friendship with this guy, because first and foremost, they _are_ rivals, but Zaizen does like to think that Kirihara doesn't _really _want to see him dead. "_But know this, if that Masamoto isn't there with you, you'll have a hellish time doing things you'd normally sidestep._"

"I would have been fine," he says, and not without an affection of pride.

"_I know_," Kirihara drawls, in a way that makes Zaizen believe that he doesn't believe him one bit, "_but you wouldn't be talking to me right now, would you? You would be stuck in the club office, doing paperwork, the way Hiyoshi is right now, since he doesn't have anyone else to share that burden with._"

Zaizen's frown deepens at that.

"_Ohtori isn't his vice-captain_."

"Stupid," Zaizen remarks. The guy beside him, a man probably in his thirties and definitely looks like he isn't there on his own accord, if the giggling kid by his side is anything to go with, turns and frowns at his choice of word, but Zaizen only gives him an even look.

Kirihara barks out a laugh. "_I'd say that to him personally if I wasn't already sure that he'd have punched me in the face. Hiyoshi thinks he can do everything Atobe can do, and then some_."

"A stupid masochist," he continues further. "You can't do everything by yourself."

"_Exactly_," Kirihara presses on, sounding just a bit satisfied at his response — a tone which he addresses quickly enough for Zaizen to pick up on. "_So why are you shoving everything to your vice-captain's face if you already know that_?"

Zaizen hangs up.

• • •

"No."

"BUT IT'D BE A GREAT IDEA!" yells Kintarou enthusiastically, because of course, he doesn't see the big picture, and only knows what he wants, and ignores the fact that Zaizen has already declined his idea of a mini camping trip. Any other time, Zaizen supposes that he might have thought about it to a certain extent (or not, he hates camping), but not in the middle of tennis season and certainly not when it's scorching hot outside. "Shiraishi-buchou always encourages club bonding! He would have agreed with me! You should, too!"

"I'm not Shiraishi," he replies waspishly, instantly reminded of his last conversation with his former captain.

It's really a bad idea to be reminded of things he wants to leave in the past, most especially when he's trying to study for a quiz tomorrow. Kintarou's sudden appearance in the club's office (Zaizen doesn't even what to know _how _he managed to get a key; he's going to have a talk with Osamu later) isn't doing him any favours, if he's honest.

"I know," says Kintarou. "But don't you want everyone to get along really well together like we did? Especially now! The Nationals is just around the corner! Let's have some fun, Zaizen-buchou!"

Sometimes, Zaizen muses to himself, Kintarou shows great potential, if only he didn't yell so much, or at least tries not to say the stupidest things. All the same, it ends up being amusing to him, because he can feel Kintarou trying subconsciously to say the right things, but it just doesn't work out the way anyone wants to.

It all comes back to yelling.

"Not this time, Kintarou," he replies, with a certain level of authority in his voice.

"But Zaizen-buchou!" Kintarou whines.

Zaizen looks up from the book he's reading, and turns to his teammate, gritting his teeth in a conscious effort not to say anything just plain hurtful. Patience, he tells himself, is the key here, and he's learned by watching Shiraishi and Kintarou together that as long as there is a compromise between the two parties, nobody gets hurt too badly.

"It's not a good idea at this time," he says, emphasizing on the '_not_'. "I'll think about it later, after tennis season is over, but for now, don't bug me about it or I'll kick you off the team."

"WHAT—?"

"You won't be able to play with '_Koshimae_'," he says. He may not have Shiraishi's fake poison arms to threaten him with, but he does have other forms of blackmail, and they're deadly useful.

"Y-YOU'RE LYING!"

Zaizen stares at him flatly.

Kintarou whimpers, defeated. "THAT'S NOT FAIR!"

"Then shut up," he orders bluntly.

"But it would have made Jurou-chan really happy," he says despondently. Zaizen looks up sharply. "Haven't you noticed? He's been really sad lately! Kenya told me he's into insects! There're lots of bugs in the forests, right?"

Masamoto, liking insects.

_Right_.

Why is Zaizen not surprised?

"He's sad—"

"Yeah!" Kintarou exclaims. "Sad! He needs bugs, _buchou_!"

Zaizen rubs a hand over his face, exasperated. "Kintarou—"

"Osamu-chan can get us permission to get out of school! I'll ask him!" says Kintarou, and he's bouncing up and down excitedly. "We'll say it's for tennis. Lots of people go to camp so they can practice tennis, right?"

"_No one_ is going to believe that," he says disbelievingly.

They're in the middle of tennis season. No one goes camping in the middle of nowhere during tennis season. Seigaku can fuck themselves in the ass for all he cares, but _no one leaves the tennis courts_ _when tennis season is in session_.

But Kintarou is already running out of the office, looking like he just won the jackpot. There's a glow about him that says he will not be disputed — he _can't _be disputed, and this is a real thing that's going to happen whether Zaizen likes it or not.

Zaizen grimaces. "OI, IDIOT! COME BACK HERE!"

"I'LL LOOK FOR OSAMU-CHAN, ZAIZEN-BUCHOU! I'LL SEE YOU LATER!"

• • •


End file.
